


The Boy With a Storm in His Brain

by bibliosoph



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Evil, Fluff, Happy Ending, I love you guys, M/M, RIP My sanity, Sad, alex needs a break, hehe, henry loves alex, i swear it's cute even if it's sad, there is a happy ending i promise, what are tags, what are words, why do i like torturing them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22718956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliosoph/pseuds/bibliosoph
Summary: Literally any actual summary would just give it away.Alex is over-worked and has a headache.Just a headache....Right?????
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 134
Kudos: 425





	1. One

Alex was dying. He had been working on this paper for nearly six hours straight and the blue light from the screen was burning his eyes and blaring into his brain. Sighing, he finished the last sentence and quickly shut his computer so he wouldn’t even be tempted to go back and edit it tonight. He wished, not for the first time that evening, that Henry was home with him. If Henry were there, he would know just what to do to help Alex get out of his head. His head was aching and pounding from overuse at the moment. He checked his phone and saw that it was nearly five in the morning. He had classes tomorrow. He had to edit his paper tomorrow. He had so many things to do but sleep was literally the furthest thing from his mind. His brain was buzzing, trying to solve problems that hadn’t even come up yet. So, he did what he always did when his head was fucking with him: he popped some Advil and called Henry.  
It was ten in the morning in London where Henry was for the next two days. He’d been away for four already and Alex was going slightly insane with missing him. Hearing his voice would do Alex some good. If Alex couldn’t fall asleep to the sound of Henry’s steady breathing or the feeling of Henry’s arms around him, he could at least try to fall asleep to the sound of his voice. It worked, sometimes, when the storm in his brain got to be too much.  
Henry, the always amazing boyfriend that he was, picked up on the second ring. “Love, I’m getting a bit concerned about your sleeping habits,” he teased. Alex could hear shuffling the background and, unmistakably, Bea’s voice.  
Alex smiled at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice and laid down on their bed, wishing that Henry could be here with him instead of thousands of miles away. “It’s all your fault,” Alex explained, “because you know that I can’t sleep if you’re not here with me.” He could practically see Henry smile at that.  
“Ah, well, the sacrifices we make for the Crown.”  
“How’s all that going, anyway? Raise any money?”  
Henry and Bea were busy doing a fundraiser for their foundations. Originally, Alex planned on going to it, but then his teachers had decided to try and drown him in homework so a day off was out of the question. Desperate to try and make London work for him, he’d asked Henry to call up his law school’s office and kindly explain that this was a matter of international importance and that the Crown demanded the presence of Alexander Gabriel Claremont Diaz, so would they mind sparing him for a day or two and giving him a fucking extension? Henry had laughed at that and, of course, refused. He’d made it up to Alex later, though.  
“Yes, it was quite the success. Now I just have to tie up some odds and ends with my mum so I can come back to you.” Henry passed and took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I haven’t gotten much sleep without you, either.”  
“Aw, baby, do you miss me?” Alex sang into the phone, trying to suppress his laughter.  
“Terribly,” Henry admitted. “My heart aches when I think of you staying up into the small hours of the morning, hunched over your computer. I wish I could be there to help you.”  
Alex grinned. “I’m not sure what good you’d be for this essay on the Death Penalty.”  
“Well, I meant that I could help by bringing you tea and ice cream and ensuring that you get a proper night’s sleep. Have you slept more than five hours in a row since I left?”  
Alex did not care to dignify that with a response.  
“Alex,” Henry warned.  
Alex sighed and turned onto his side, facing Henry’s side of the bed. “No, okay? I’ve slept maybe four hours in a row and that was, like, three days ago. But I’m fine. It’s fine. I’m not even tired.”  
“Well, when I get back this evening, I’m making sure that you get a full eight hours of sleep.”  
Alex’s brows furrowed together in confusion. “Today?”  
“Yes, today. The fundraiser was last night.”  
Alex shot up, trying to blink past the work-induced fog in his head. “I thought––well, yeah, but I thought you weren’t coming home for another two days. The twelfth, right?”  
“It is the twelfth.”  
Fuck. Fucking shit. If it was the twelfth, that meant that Alex’s paper was past due. How had he let the dates get away like this? He was sure it was the tenth, or, given the time of the morning, the eleventh. His paper was five hours late and, even though he hadn’t had time to edit it, he would have to send it in as in to avoid getting any more points off. Keeping the phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder, he rushed back over to his desk and pulled open his laptop so he could submit the document online. He’d never turned something in late before. Would the system let him submit it? Would his teacher even count it?  
“Alex, what’s going on? Are you okay?”  
Alex groaned and frantically pulled up the website to submit the document. “I fucked up the dates in my head. My paper was due yesterday and I haven’t had time to edit it and I––”  
“That’s it,” Henry decided. Alex could practically see him sticking his chin out in that way he did sometimes. “You’re taking a day off. You’re going to submit your paper, go to sleep, and when I get home, I’m going to make you a decent meal and we’re going to spend the right of the evening dead to the world.”  
Though it did sound tempting, Alex knew that he couldn’t just skip class to have a nice lie-in with his boyfriend. There was work to be done, things to learn. He hadn’t skipped a day of law school yet, and he didn’t plan on starting now. If he could make it work with the rest of his obligations to both his mother’s presidency and the Crown, he knew that having a little fatigue and a headache due to a lack of sleep wasn’t really worth missing class. He could do what he’d always done: power through. It was in his nature to tackle things head-on and too fast, so he could manage. These late nights, the aching brain, the spots dancing in his vision from looking at a computer screen for far too long were what he had signed up for when he applied to law school. It was a challenge, yes, but not one that he was willing to back down from.  
“I can’t,” he sighed. “I have class. I have to––“  
“Yes, and you can get notes from literally any one of your fans in your classes. This is a matter of your health, Alex. Please, darling, take a break. Your confusion of the dates is worrying me and I fear for what may happen if you don’t get a solid sleep in the near future.”  
It sounded tempting and, in the back of his mind, Alex knew that Henry was right. Mixing up dates wasn’t really his thing. As a news-junkie, he tended to stay on top of things like what day it was and what was happening in the world, so the fact that things had gotten this bad frightened him a bit. Then there was the fact that this fucking headache kept coming back to him on a daily basis and that no amount of Advil really helped it go away. Maybe, after a good night’s sleep and lots of cuddles with his impossibly attractive, caring boyfriend, he should go to the doctor and get checked for migraines or something. Or, more likely, he would ignore the problem until it went away. Yeah, ignoring it seemed like a better bet. Cuddles first, though.  
“Fine,” he agreed. “When I explain my absence to my professors, I’m going to claim that I was ordered to rest by HRH Prince Henry of Wales, though. I feel like half of the point of this relationship is that I get to name-drop.”  
Henry chuckled at him. “Fine. Go to sleep, Alex. I’m getting on a plane in a few hours.”  
“Okay. I love you.”  
“I love you, too.”


	2. Two

When Henry got home that evening and found that Alex was still sleeping, he was extremely worried. It was in Alex’s nature to push himself beyond reason and exhaustion, but sleeping for over ten hours straight made Henry think that Alex had finally found his limit. He’d been staying up for hours and hours working on papers and such for the past month or two. Even though they were both insomniacs, Alex was taking things to a whole new level. In addition to his lack of sleep, he had been suffering from terrible headaches. Henry had tried to convince him to print things out and read them on paper instead of on that infernal computer screen, but Alex never listened. When Henry was home to help, he made sure that Alex ate frequent, balanced meals and chugged water and Gatorade instead of relying on coffee to get him through. It was probably a combination of the screens, dehydration, and exhaustion that really did him in this time.

Henry decides to let Alex keep sleeping. While Alex slumbered, Henry went down to the kitchen and started to make dinner. He was jet-lagged and tired, but he knew that Alex needed a real meal. Even though they tended not to talk about Alex’s eating and sleeping habits when Henry’s gone, Henry knew that they were bad. Based off of the empty wrappers of junk foods and the empty cans of iced coffee that surrounded Alex on the bed, Alex hadn’t eaten a real meal since Henry left for London. It makes him sick and achey to think of his boyfriend so underfed and over-caffeinated.

David sat eagerly at his feet while he stirred some beef and red sauce in a pan, waiting for the pasta cook in a pot on the burner next to it. He smiled down at David and gave him a handful of sauce-less beef, letting him lick it off his palm. He chuckled to himself and got back to stirring.

“I was wondering what smelled so good,” a voice said from behind him. Henry turned and saw Alex standing in the doorway, a blanket slung around his shoulders, glasses perched on the edge of his nose, curls mussed, and his hand messaging his forehead. Henry grinned at him and moved over to him to give him a proper kiss.

“Hi, love,” he said, resting his forehead against Alex’s. “I thought I should let you sleep. Lord knows you needed it.”

Alex hummed in agreement. “I feel better.”

Henry pulled away, grabbing onto Alex’s biceps, and stared at him. He raised an eyebrow, not at all convinced. “You still look knackered.”

Alex sighed. “I have a headache.”

Henry went back to the kitchen, knowing that Alex was right at his heels, and fetched his boyfriend a glass of water. He handed it back to him and watched to make sure Alex drank it all. “You’re probably dehydrated,” Henry frowned, filling up another cup.

“I guess. I’ve had it for, like, a week.”

Henry did not like the sound of that. It wasn’t abnormal for Alex to get headaches, especially during intense work periods, but a continuous headache for a week seemed like something important and bad. “Is it a migraine?”

“Don’t know,” Alex said, setting the glass down on the counter. “I’ve never had one before.”

Henry frowned and went back to the stovetop to check on the pasta and sauce. He didn’t want to face Alex now––didn’t want Alex to see how worried he was about this. “Are you having any other symptoms?”

“It’ll blow over,” Alex said, ignoring the question. “It’s impossible for me to get sick or anything. I haven’t been to the doctor in years. It’ll be fine.”

Henry sighed and turned the burners off to start plating the food. “If it gets any worse,” he said, “I’m making you see a doctor. I’m worried about you. You’re going to burn yourself out one of these days, especially if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“Why would I take care of myself when I can just have you take care of me?”

Henry handed Alex a full plate and a fork and shot him a soft smile. “Sometimes I fear what you might become if you didn’t have me around. I wonder how long one can survive solely on ice cream and espresso.”

Alex rolled his eyes and, with a mouthful of pasta, said, “Been going strong for twenty-three years now, baby.”

Henry chuckles at his ridiculous boyfriend. “Well, now that I’m back, I’m more than willing to commit to being your care-taker which is, frankly, ridiculous considering that you are a fully grown man.” There was no bite in his voice, though. Just complete and unfiltered love and adoration of the idiotic, gorgeous man across the counter.

“Mm, can that include taking care of me tonight in––”

Henry nearly choked on his food. “Christ!” He took a moment to recompose himself, pointedly ignoring that mischievous glint in Alex’s eyes. “We’re having a lie-in tonight. You haven’t slept nearly enough recently and I’m completely knackered. We can watch a film and cuddle.”

Alex huffed but, later that night, Henry could see how content Alex was with their evening. They were halfway through The Princess Bride and Alex was practically purring in Henry’s lap as Henry threaded his fingers through his curls. His eyes were half-closed and Henry knew that any moment now, Alex would be asleep again. It was good to see him rest his mind, even if he would be right back into the thick of his work tomorrow.


	3. Three

The irritability and mental fog that manifested over the next two weeks were concerning enough on their own. But then there was the constant complaint of a headache that never went away no matter how much Advil Alex took or how much water he drank or how much sleep he got. Whenever Henry came home, Henry saw Alex absent-mindedly rubbing his head like massaging it would relieve himself of the constant pain and ache. Alex still refused to go to a doctor and Henry didn’t want to pressure him. There weren’t any symptoms besides the headache that might suggest a migraine, so Henry thought it would pass once Alex got a break. Henry thought he was just overworking himself. Working himself to exhaustion. Henry did his best to make him food and keep him hydrated, but he knew that nothing was really helping. Henry felt useless. Lost. Confused. He wanted to help his boyfriend get through this, but it felt like Alex was slipping through his fingers like sand. He was still Alex, in a way. Still passionate and hard-working, but there was something in his eyes that gave Henry the distinct impression that Alex wasn’t just slipping away from him––that Alex was slipping away from himself.

It was obvious sometimes. The way Alex’s eyes didn’t really seem to connect. The fact that he wore his glasses everywhere now and still squinted while wearing them. The fact that the light had gone out in his eyes. But Henry didn’t want to make a big deal about it. If he voiced his opinions and thoughts to Alex, it might hurt Alex. It might make him think that Henry was judging him for working so hard. So he kept ignoring it. Until one day when there was no way for him to ignore it anymore.

It seemed like a normal Saturday. They had gone out for breakfast at a little café near their house and decided to take a stroll around the area. It was a bit cold outside, but the skies were clear and the sun was bright. Henry had his hand firmly in Alex’s and they let their hands swing by their sides. Alex wasn’t really saying much, so Henry tried to tell him stories about his days at uni to coax a reaction out of him.

“Then he grabbed my––“

Alex’s hand stiffened in his own for a moment. For a split second, Henry thought nothing of it. Just a little “I love you” squeeze. But then Alex was tugging him back and down and Henry let go of his hand, confused. He turned to face Alex but saw that Alex was no longer at his side. The world turned a bit slower for a moment. Time passed too slowly. Alex, his eyes staring blankly ahead, started to fall backward onto the concrete. There was a disconnect between Henry’s brain and his limbs. He willed himself to move, to sprint to Alex’s side and help break his fall, but he was too shocked to actually move. He was rooted to the spot for a moment before he snapped himself out of his weird, terrified daze and dashed to Alex’s side. He was just in time to reach down and prevent Alex’s head from smacking against the concrete.

“Alex, what happened?” he asked, voice shaking, hands trembling. Alex didn’t respond. Henry tried to help him up but Alex was stiff as a board. Deadweight. His body started to shake and Henry could see his muscles constrict over and over again but he didn’t know what to do. He had no idea what this was. A fit of exhaustion? A panic attack? Something else? He had never experienced anything like this before. Somewhere in the distance, someone screamed. Henry registered people coming over but he couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze from Alex.

He kept his hand under Alex’s head, keeping it off the ground. With his other hand, he gently brushed his curls back from his forehead, letting his thumb rest on the soft skin at the crown of his head.

“Love, can you talk to me? Please,” Henry begged, trying to keep his voice soft and balanced. He could feel the tears in his eyes, though. The looming threat of a nervous breakdown because his boyfriend was convulsing on the ground and he had no idea what was going on or how he could help him.

Someone touched his shoulder. “Sir,” they said. Henry ignored them, his eyes still on Alex. “Your Highness,” they said, snapping him out of his focused gaze. He turned and saw a middle-aged woman standing behind him. He stared at her, mouth open, eyes frantic.

She put her hand on his shoulder and crouched down. “Can I help? I’m a doctor.”

Henry swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. The woman got on her knees, removed her sweater, and slid it under Alex’s head. Henry let his hand fall and brought it up to tug at his hair. He had never been so terrified, but the woman seemed calm and collected. Alex’s body stilled and his eyes closed. Henry let out a squeak of horror at the implications, but the woman didn’t seem concerned about it. Instead, she moved his head back, opened his mouth, and carefully maneuvered him so he was on his side. Henry watched intently.

“Does this happen often?”

Henry shook his head. “I––never.”

She nodded and leaned in close to Alex’s face. “Hi, Alex. I’m Harper. We’re outside of a Starbucks. I’m with your boyfriend Prince Henry. You’re okay, I just need you to relax.”

“What…” Henry’s brain was still catching up with everything. The horror of seeing Alex fall. The fear when his body convulsed and constricted. The calm, soothing manner of this woman, Harper, as she helped him. “What happened to him? What is this? A panic attack?”

Harper shook her head. “A seizure.”

Henry whimpered and looked down at Alex who still had his eyes closed. Henry had never heard much about seizures. The only thing he knew about them was that they weren’t usually life-threatening or anything, but he didn’t know how terrifying they would be. Watching Alex fall and then move like that…

There was a crowd around them now. People with their phones out, snapping pictures of Alex on the ground and this entire situation. Henry gritted his teeth, feeling anger rise up in him. This was a very private, personal matter and the whispers and gasps and cameras made him want to scream.

Harper must have seen his pointed glare at the crowd because she put a reassuring arm back on his shoulder. “If it will make you feel better, I can call an ambulance. He should be fine, but it might be better for both of you to get you somewhere private and safe where someone with more experience with seizures can check on him.”

Henry nodded, finding himself stupid for not having phoned an ambulance already. He texted Cash, who was in the city, and gave him their location and the situation. Cash replied instantly and said that he would be there in five minutes to take them to a hospital.

“I’ve got a PPO on his way,” Henry said, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “I should have phoned one sooner.”

“You’re fine,” Harper assured him with a soft smile. “Usually they don’t require hospital trips, especially if the patient has a condition. Does he have epilepsy? Heart disease?”

Henry shook his head. “No. At least, not that I’m aware of. He’s, uh, he’s been having headaches recently.”

Harper took out her phone and started typing something. “Anything else?”

Henry thought about how Alex had been for the past few weeks. “Lots of fatigue and confusion,” he explained, “and he’s been rather irritable. And he’s had some vision problems. I think the headaches are the biggest thing, though. Nothing seems to help.”

Harper nodded and typed into her phone again. She read over something and then looked up at Henry. “I’m not really a specialist, but I’ve written down some preliminary tests I think you should get done. They might not show anything, but it will at least rule out some of my bigger concerns.”

Henry nodded. “I––what do you think is happening to him?”

She sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. Could be any number of things. Head injury, high blood pressure, or maybe heart disease. And, if he’s had these other symptoms, I think it’s worthwhile to at least rule some things out.”

Henry nodded again and saw Alex’s eyes blink open. His first instinct was to pull him into a tight embrace, but he didn’t want to hurt him. Instead, he took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Hi, love.”

Alex sat up and rubbed his head, looking at all of the people with their phones and cameras out. He turned to face Henry, his eyes dull and his expression confused. “What happened? Where are we?”

Henry smiled softly at him and put his other hand on Alex’s jaw, rubbing at the skin there. “You had a seizure. Cash is on his way and we’re going to take you to a hospital.”

Alex frowned at him. “I’m fine.”

Henry fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You are decidedly not fine,” he argued. “You haven’t been fine for a while. We’re going to get some tests done and see what’s going on so we can fix it and get you better again.”

Alex’s eyes landed on Harper. “Hi there,” he said to her. “Do you think we could have some fucking pri––“

“Alex,” Henry warned, “she’s a doctor. She saw what happened and helped you.”

Alex sighed. “Fine. Sorry. Look, Hen, can we please just go home? I’m tired and I’m fine now and––“

“You are not fine!” Henry snapped, officially at his fucking limit. “You’ve been ill for weeks and ignoring it. You promised me that you would get help if it got any worse, and now you’ve had a bloody seizure in the middle of the damn street. I don’t care if you don’t want to go to the hospital. I’m putting my foot down. Alex, you haven’t been yourself for the past two weeks. I––I need you, okay? I love you and I need you to get better and to get help and to stop bloody ignoring yourself. Hold yourself to a higher standard!”

Alex gaped at him.


	4. Four

Cash and Henry helped Alex into the back of the car since his body was too drained and useless to cooperate. Henry was still fuming in his own, quiet way. The woman, Harper, went into the car with them so she could help them at the hospital since, apparently, she worked there and knew the other doctors. Alex wanted to continue that conversation, the one that ended when Cash rolled up in the black SUV, but he didn’t want to do it with this audience. He wished it could have just been him and Henry in their house with David curled up on the sofa with them. He wished that he wasn’t being literally dragged to the hospital for useless tests that wouldn’t make anything more clear. But, despite his anger, he wanted to know that Henry wasn’t actually furious with him. He’d never seen Henry furious with him, and he really didn’t want to experience it now.

He nudged his shoulder against Henry’s, pulling his boyfriend from his pensive, non-specific gaze out the window. Henry’s eyes instantly met his and he pursed his lips together to form an unreadable expression that made Alex want to scream.

“I’m sorry for being a bitch,” Alex tried.

Henry’s straight-lined mouth turned up a bit at the corners. “I know. And I’m sorry for snapping at you, but I meant what I said. I’m terribly worried about you and I need you to understand that there’s something wrong.”

Alex nodded and looked down. He felt like an ashamed child. Like he’d just been caught doing something bad. “Yeah. I mean, they’ll just tell me to take it easy. It’s not like there’s something physically wrong with me.”

Henry sighed and reached out for his hand across the black leather of the seats before turning his head back to the window.

He was almost one hundred percent positive that there was nothing wrong with him. It had been years since he’d been really, terribly sick. The bouts of exhaustion and headaches were normal for him. They came with the way he chose to live his life. Even the rare panic attack was nothing he couldn’t handle. But, knowing all of that, he couldn’t ignore the churning feeling in his stomach that came when he tried to make a list of all of the possibilities. There, in the back of his aching mind, was that feeling that he knew all too well from everything that happened during the election. The impending doom looming somewhere on the horizon. That sinking feeling that calcified itself deep in his stomach.

Three hours later, waiting in an office, Alex still felt that feeling. Magnified exponentially. It had been three hours of waiting, tests, more waiting, and more tests. Now he and Henry were seated in a small office, waiting for the doctor to come in and walk them through the test results. Alex was fidgeting anxiously, unable to sit still. Henry was still beside him, his expression calm and still unreadable.

“Maybe…” Alex started, not really sure where to go from that.

Henry turned to look at him. “Hm?”

He could see how this––the hospital, the tests––was getting to Henry. How it probably made him think about his dad and how he was most likely on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The more Alex thought about the day, the whole incident that sparked this little hospital visit, the more he ached. Henry had been a saint through it all. Alex couldn’t even think about what he would have done if their roles were reversed––if Henry had suddenly collapsed on the sidewalk in fucking Brooklyn. He’d…well, he wouldn’t look half as put together and collected as Henry, for sure.

“You should go home,” Alex said.

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Certainly not. You––“

“Might be here, waiting, for a few more hours,” Alex finished.

He could see arguments forming behind Henry’s eyes. That fire rising him. A protest. A fight.

“Seriously. I’m fine. And…” he didn’t know how to say the rest of it. How could he tell Henry that he wanted to face the music or whatever was about to come by himself? If he told Henry that, Henry might have thought that Alex didn’t trust him or want him around or something. The truth of it was that Alex was terrified. He’d registered the whispers and seen the doctors writing lengthy notes when he answered their endless questions. There was something. Something he didn’t know about yet, but there was definitely something coming. A name for what he was feeling. A reason. A cure. And even though Henry had seen him through his worst countless times over by now, this was different. This was going to be an entire fucking thing and he knew that having Henry here to worry with him wasn’t going to help either of them.

He could handle whatever news or name the doctor threw at him. He could go to the pharmacy and get the prescription filled. And it would be fine. But Henry…Henry would worry. Panic. Want to get all of the information. Want to check-in and make sure that Alex was okay and that he was being taken care of. If Alex got the news on his own, he would have time to formulate a way to explain it to Henry without making Henry get all stressed and worked up about it.

“I just feel like I need to do this myself,” Alex tried. “And I love you so much and I’m secretly glad that you brought me here, but I––“

Henry put a hand on top of his. “If you want me to leave, I can leave.”

Alex met his gaze. That piercing blue that always cut right into his soul. “Are you sure? You won’t be mad or anything?”

Henry shook his head and smiled at him a bit. “Of course not. This is your deeply personal business. I do expect that you’ll let me know what they say, though.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I love you. I love you so much and thank you for taking care of me.”

Henry placed a quick kiss to his forehead. “I’ll see you at home, then? Just text me when you’re leaving. I’ll make us some dinner.”

When Alex was alone, he let himself sort through his thoughts. Thoughts of how much he loved Henry and how he needed to somehow express just how much he loved him the second he got home. How amazing Henry was for being calm and sure about things. How he would probably be floating in a haze somewhere without him.

There was a knock on the door. Alex felt his spine shift and straighten as the doctor, a large man with a goatee and kind eyes, entered the room. The doctor sat down at his desk and put a file on the table.

“Are we waiting for your boyfriend?”

Alex shook his head.

The doctor smiled understandingly and opened the file, revealing a mess of papers and pictures from his various scans. “Well, the good news is that we know what this is.”

Alex felt his breath itch. “You do?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes. The neurologist’s data from your exam made me wonder, but the MRI we did confirmed it.”

Alex dug his fingernails into the skin on his palm. His knees bounced anxiously. “Confirmed what?”

The doctor, Doctor Jennings, the tag read, sighed. Alex briefly thought about how much he would hate to have his job––having to tell people life-altering news as kindly and gently as possible.

“You have a brain tumor. It’s small––“

Alex’s brain short-circuited at the mention of a tumor. A tumor. Something, a mass, growing inside his brain. And, as much as he hated to admit it, it made a lot of sense. The headaches. The pressure in his skull. It was a brain tumor that was growing and taking up valuable space he needed for information and law school. It made his stomach churn and grind when he tried to picture it––the lump in his brain. Doctor Jennings was still speaking, though. Somewhere in the distance. He was saying words like “biopsy” and “sample” and “tissue” and something about treatment plans but all Alex could think was tumor. And, oh God, a tumor. A tumor that could mean––

“Is it cancerous?”

Doctor Jennings stared at him for a second. Alex had probably cut him off, but he didn’t really care. All he could think about was the tumor in his brain and how the fuck he was supposed to tell Henry about it and how everything would have to change while they dealt with this. How there were already pictures of him on the ground outside of that Starbucks with Henry crouched by his head. About the phone calls from June and Nora and his parents and how he had explained that they were at the hospital and getting more information to figure out what the hell was going on and how no, they didn’t need to pack their bags and come to New York. About how he would have to sit down with everyone he loved and explain this to them. What it meant. What it could mean.

“We’re not sure. As I was saying, we’ll have to do a biopsy to see if it’s benign or cancerous. The only thing that would change would be the treatment after surgery. Since it’s relatively small and not in a high-risk area, surgery will be a good start. After that, and after we get a sample of the tissue, we’ll be able to know more information.”

Alex nodded helplessly, the words still not really making sense in his mind.

“I have some pamphlets and papers of information for you. And your scan results, if you’d like to hold onto them. We can follow up about a date for the surgery, but for now, I think you should take a day or two, look over the literature, and we’ll take it from there. I’ve also included my card with my personal number on it so you can call me directly with any questions or concerns you have.”

He slid the file across the desk for Alex to take. He grabbed it and left it closed, not ready to even try to absorb all of this information yet. He briefly registered shaking Doctor Jennings’ hand and texting Henry to say that he was on his way home. He recalled, vaguely, sitting in the back of the SUV with Cash in the driver’s seat, staring out the window and desperately trying to come up with some sort of list.

1\. He had to tell Henry.

2\. He had to tell Henry in a way that didn’t make him freak out.

3\. He had to tell everyone in a way that didn’t make them worry sick and drop everything in their lives to come be with him while he figured this out.

4\. He had to tell his school about this because there was no way that he would be able to manage the surgery and recovery and treatment while going to class five days a week.

5\. He had to tell Henry. Henry who lost his dad to cancer. Henry whose whole world was about to shatter into a million pieces.

Henry was finishing dinner when Alex hazily stumbled through their front door, that file tucked under his arm.

“Hello, love,” Henry said, getting him with a soft, quick kiss. “How did it go? Any news?”

He followed Henry back into the kitchen where the smell of cinnamon and sweetness and bacon washed over him. “Breakfast for dinner?”

Henry nodded and went over to the cabinet above the sink to get plates. “Thought you deserved a bit of a treat.”

Alex managed a half-hearted grin before sitting down at the small, kitchen table. “We both do. This day has been a fucking nightmare.”

Henry frowned and placed a plate loaded with scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes down in front of him. He put his own plate down and sat down across from Alex, his eyes eager and sad and nervous. Alex felt a lump form in his throat and stomach when he saw Henry look at him like that.

“Hopefully not a waste, though,” he said. “Did they tell you anything useful? Or was is some of that, ’come back later, we want to run more tests’ nonsense?”

The humor didn’t quite register in Alex’s brain. “I, uh, I got a result, but they have some more tests they have to run to give us more information about it. Specifics and stuff.”

Henry frowned. “Well, it’s good that you got a diagnosis. That means that there’s something to treat it, yes?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

Silence.

“You’re scaring me a bit, love,” Henry said, voice shaking. “What did the doctor say?”

“A lot. I kind of zoned out for most of it, but he gave me all of these pamphlets of information and my results and––“ Alex had given speeches before. He’d been the center of an international sex scandal. He’d had a meeting with the Queen of England. He had done so many crazy things that required unprecedented amounts of bravery, but he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t look his boyfriend in the eye and tell him that there was a mass growing inside his head. That the storm in his brain had gotten much, much, bigger.

Instead, he took out the file and set it on the table between them. “These are my results. My treatment plans. My…everything we need to know. I can’t…I want you to read it. Then, when you’re done, we can talk about everything this means for us and the future.”

“Okay…” Henry said, unsure.

“Is it okay if I go upstairs while you read it? I can’t…I don’t think I can be here. I’m still processing and––“

“Of course,” Henry assured him. “Shall I come up when I’ve finished?”

Alex nodded. He just needed a moment to sit on their bed, put his head in his hands, and really absorb all of this. He wanted to be there for Henry because this his thing just as much as it was Alex’s, but he didn’t want to have to see the look on his face while he scoured the page for answers.

Answers that Alex didn’t have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone literally needs to take both my brain and my laptop away.


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as Alex and his plate of breakfast for dinner were out of the room and, presumably upstairs, Henry sighed and pulled the file toward himself. He allowed himself to just stare at it for a moment, wondering what the words and pictures would tell him about his boyfriend. Obviously, it was something more serious than they anticipated since it had made Alex so nervous. When he thought back to when Alex asked him to leave him alone at the hospital, Henry felt a wave of gratitude and love wash over him. It was hard for him to be in hospitals––even when he was just going to talk to children––and it had been especially challenging to be there with Alex. Seeing his boyfriend hooked up into various machines and having to take exams to assess what was wrong with him was unnerving. With his father, it had been different. It was a faster sort of thing, the diagnosis and the inevitable death of him, and Henry hadn’t been there for every step of the way. He hadn’t been there to see his father go through test after test like he had to for Alex. So, when Alex asked him to leave, Henry had been almost relieved. And definitely sickeningly in love with his considerate boyfriend.

With a determined nod and an under-his-breath “right then,” Henry sat up straighter and pulled the file open. It was incredibly overwhelming at first. There were just so many various papers and pamphlets. The full-page, official reports and test results made him incredibly nervous and dry-mouthed so he decided to start with the pictures of Alex’s brain from the MRI scan, expecting to see that something had been ruled out and that everything was fine. The pictures were glossed and printed in a blue tint that felt a little too sinister and eerie for a hospital, but he brushed the feeling aside and looked at them. On each one, there was a small, red circular object that had been circled in sharpie.

It hit him at once. A massive, fucking wave of acknowledgment and defeat and fear and a few more emotions that he couldn’t quite place. It welled up inside of him and crashed against the sides of his stomach and rushed up his throat. It filled his eyes with salty tears that fell onto the pictures below him on the table. That red circle––Henry didn’t need someone to tell him what that meant. A tumor. He’d seen similar things in his father’s scans on those late nights where doctors tried to explain his situation.

His eyes scanned over the pages, eager to find more information. He found treatment plans and questions and instructions for care after surgery. God, Alex’s whole entire life was about to uprooted. Everything he was working for––law school, Congressional campaigns––it was all going to be ripped out from right under his fingertips. Out of grasp. This would set every goal back by at least a year. He would have to take the rest of the semester off. Probably more than that. Then, if this was cancer, he would spend the rest of his life constantly worrying about it returning and then some.

Alex…Henry slammed the file shut and shot up like a rocket, eager to get to his boyfriend. Alex. Oh, God, Alex. Henry couldn’t even imagine what must have been going through that ridiculous, funny mind of his.

He knocked on the door to their bedroom.

“Come in,” Alex said from within. Henry took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Alex was hunched over the desk in the corner with his laptop open, working on homework like there was nothing wrong. Henry wanted to cry at the sight of it, at the reckless nature of his perfect, idiotic boyfriend. He moved over to the desk and gently closed the laptop. Alex looked up at him. Those big, brown eyes were filled with something Henry couldn’t quite place. A swirl of emotions and confusion and thoughts about the future. Henry guided him over to the bed and sat down so they faced each other. He took Alex’s hands in his own and gave them a squeeze.

“Did you read it?”

Henry nodded. He brought Alex’s hands up to his mouth and planted a kiss on them. “How are you feeling?"  
Alex laughed a wet, mangled laugh. Tears streamed down his face. “How am I? I’m fine, Hen. How are you? Are you…okay?”

Henry cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “Are you joking?”

Alex shook his head and wiped his eyes on his shoulder, his hands still grasping onto Henry’s for dear life. “It’s all I could think about.”

“What, how I would take it? How I would react?”

Alex shrugged and looked down at their hands. “I know it might not be cancerous, but still. It’s…I kept thinking about you and your dad. How this might all be a bit much for you. It’s going to be a lot of waiting and procedures and stuff that you’ve already had to deal with and I don’t want you to feel, like, trapped. Like you have to be here for all of it. If it scares you or hurts you, I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay.”

Henry could barely even process his words. Did Alex think that Henry wanted to break up with him because of this or something? “Alex,” he said, making sure to choose his words with extra care, “I love you. Endlessly. Ridiculously. And I swear that I will be here for you through every step of this. I’m not––this doesn’t change anything for me. You are, unconditionally, my person. And I both hate and adore the way that this life-changing news made you not worry about yourself, but about me.”

“It’s worse for you,” Alex mumbled. “It’s worse for you because you have to watch. And if something goes wrong––“

“No,” Henry protested, sticking his chin out. “Nothing will go wrong. You will get through this like you’ve gotten through everything else life has thrown at you. You are so very strong, love. Nothing is strong enough to break you. Not even this.”

Alex looked up at him and smiled a bit. It was a sort of broken smile that didn’t reach his eyes and it made Henry’s heart ache in his chest. “I love you.”

Henry nodded and pulled Alex against his chest. Almost immediately, Alex’s body started shaking. Henry was worried that it might be another seizure, but he realized that Alex was crying. Sobbing into Henry’s shirt as he fit his head into the crook of Henry’s neck. Henry rubbed reassuring circles onto his back and planted a kiss into his curls, right where the tumor was.

“I love you,” Henry told him. “So much. And we’ll get through this together, okay?”

Alex nodded against him, his tears slowly subsiding. “I have to get surgery.”

Henry held him tighter. Pulled him closer until there was no space between them. “I know, love.”

“It might be cancer.”

Henry fought back more tears. “I know.”

“Everything will change now, won’t it?”

“Everything except you,” Henry assured him, “and how much I love you.”

Alex pulled away and planted a wet, sloppy kiss onto Henry’s lips. “We’ll get through this,” he agreed. “Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for everything about this.
> 
> But I also have zero regrets.


	6. Six

Calls had to be made. Not just calls––A group video call. Alex was not at all prepared to deliver this news to his family. To have to explain everything to them and see the looks on their faces when he told them the news. Henry, bless his soul a thousand times over, was Alex’s rock through it all. They decided to call them almost immediately after their chat in the bedroom, once both of their eyes were dry again, even if they would only be dry for a few minutes. They were doing Alex’s parents first––all three of them. Then, once that was done, they were going to call June, Pez, Nora, and Bea to fill them in, too. It seemed better to do it like that. It was Henry’s idea, actually, to do it in batches. The reactions from the different groups were sure to be very different. With Alex’s parents, they figured it would be a lot of questions and concerns about his surgery and treatment plans and the future.

They had been right about that.

“So, uh,” Alex said, tugging at his hair, unsure of where to begin. Henry had his hand in Alex’s constricting, nervous grip. They shared the screen space. Henry had suggested that Alex handle this privately, and Alex knew that he was just trying to be considerate, but he told Henry that he couldn’t do it alone. So, of course, Henry stayed.

“What’s going on, Alex?” his mother, the President, asked. She and Leo were sharing a screen, too. Oscar Diaz appeared below them on his own screen from California.

Henry nudged his side. “Best to just come out with it, I think,” Henry said.

Alex nodded and sighed, trying to get his words to cooperate with him. “I have some, uh, news,” Alex started.

All of their eyes instantly widened. He saw his mom squeeze Leo’s hand. God, this was too hard. He hadn’t even been able to tell Henry, let alone his parents. Their faces…already their faces made him pale and nervous and terribly, terribly guilty. And he hadn’t even told them yet.

“So, it turns out that I…well, I have a br––“ bile seeped up into his throat. He pushed it back down. “I have a brain tumor.”

Silence. Terrifying, extremely loud, silence. He looked to Henry who just shot him a small, sympathetic smile.

“We’re not sure if it’s cancerous or benign,” Henry explained. Alex thanked him silently in his head. His defective fucking head. “We’ll know more after surgery––“

“Surgery?” Alex’s mom asked, horrified.

Alex managed a weak nod. “Yeah. Soon, probably. I’m, uh, I’m gonna call them tomorrow to set it up. We thought we should tell everyone before making any decisions. We’ll need to figure out a way to hide this from the me––“

“I don’t give a fuck about the media, Alex!” his mom cried, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, sugar, all we care about is you. And you are the only thing you need to worry about right now, okay? You need to focus on recovery. I’m––“ she pulled out her phone for a moment and looked at it. “Yeah. I’m coming to New York tomorrow. And I’m going to stay until you’re out of surgery and doing better.”

“Don’t come here tomorrow,” Alex begged, “please, mom. It could be a week or two before we can schedule it. You can come for it if you really want to, but––“

“Of course we’re coming for it, Alex,” his dad piped in. “Mijo, you need your family right now.”

“Just…I’ll let you know when we get it scheduled. I don’t want y’all to, like, rearrange your lives for this.”

His mom’s stare was intense from somewhere in The White House. “I don’t care, Alex. We’re all going to come and be with you for this. You’re more important than anything else, okay? Meetings can be rescheduled. Trips can be postponed. You are the priority.”

His dad nodded in agreement. “I’m looking at flights right now,” he said.

Alex sighed, knowing that he was defeated. “Fine. Look, I love y’all so much, and I know that everything will be okay, but we do also have to tell Nora and June and Pez and Bea about this. So, like, no one mention this to anyone else for at least thirty minutes, okay?”

His parents all nodded in agreement.

“I’m calling you tomorrow,” his mom said, “to talk long-term plans.”

“Me, too,” his father added. He pointed his gaze to Henry. “And I want to have a talk with you, too, Henry.”

Henry nodded in agreement because, really, there was no way either of them could argue with Alex’s parents.

A few minutes later when his parents felt assured that they had things handled for at least the time being, they turned off the call and sat in a heavy silence, knowing that they were going to have to do this whole thing again in just a minute or two.

“Are you okay, love?” Henry asked, his hand feather-light on Alex’s back.

Alex, his head hung in his hands, nodded. “This is exactly what I was afraid of,” he whispered. “Everyone’s going to start treating me like I’m fucking broken or something.”

Henry sighed and wrapped his arms around him. “You’re not broken,” he assured him. “You’ve just had a bit of a fall. And we all just want to help you back up.”

Alex took Henry’s head in his hands, cupping it fiercely. “You need to promise me that you won’t,” he begged. “Seriously. I need you to promise me that you’ll treat me the same way that you always have. That you’ll still make fun of me sometimes and get into heated debates with me. That you’ll scold me for over-working myself and my bad eating habits.”

Henry’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “I can’t promise,” he whispered.

Alex felt his stomach drop.

Henry’s hands went up and wrapped around Alex’s wrists. “But I can promise that I’ll try. I’m afraid, though, that I won’t be able to hide my concern and fear for you.”

Alex blinked back tears. “I know. Just…try, okay? I need us to stay the same because everything else is about to change.”

Henry nodded solemnly in agreement. Alex placed a lingering kiss on his lips. When he pulled away, Henry was crying.

“Hey,” Alex cooed, brushing the pads of his thumbs against Henry’s tear tracks. Henry didn’t look at him. “Hey,” he tried again, trying to move into Henry’s line of vision.

Henry sniffled and looked at him.

“It’s going to be okay,” Alex said. He didn’t believe it. How could he? There were so many things that could go wrong. He was so worried, but not for himself. For Henry. Henry and his weird-shaped heart on the outside of his body. Henry who loved deeper than Alex could comprehend. Henry who must have been an absolute wreck inside. A ship floating bereft at sea. Unanchored. Unmoored. Lost. Broken.

“I’m sorry,” Henry sobbed.

Alex frowned at him. “Why are you sorry, baby? You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

Henry laughed wetly and wiped at his eyes. “It’s not fair for me to have a crisis about this. It’s not even me who––“

Alex shook his head, fighting back his own tears, now. “Stop. No. This is your thing, too. It’s fucking terrifying for everyone, but especially for you. And I feel so guilty for this because of everything with your dad and how good things have been since we moved here and I had to go and mess it all up.”

“You didn’t,” Henry argued. “You couldn’t. No one could have predicted…I just love you so much. I feel like I don’t say that enough these days. I love you, I love you, I love you. You are the bravest person I know.”

Alex shook his head again. “That’s you, baby. If the roles were reversed…”

Henry stared at him for a moment, his eyes big and red and wet. “Right. I’m just…I don’t know how to help. What I can do.”

Alex tried to smile, but he knew it fell flat. “Well, you can help me tell our friends and family about it. I don’t think I can say that word again.”

Tumor. Tumor. Tumor. It was an indestructible lump in his throat.

Henry nodded, placed a quick kiss to Alex’s head, and decided that it was best to just get this out of the way.

Out of mind.

“Alex, please tell me that this is going to be some kind of actual explanation,” Nora said immediately as soon as everyone was online.

“I saw pictures of you on the sidewalk,” Pez said, “is everything all right over there, babes?”

“We have some news,” Alex said, squeezing Henry’s hand again.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Pez asked.

In Alex’s periphery, he saw Henry shoot him a very pointed glare.

“We got results from the hospital,” Henry said, making good on his unspoken promise to help Alex with this part. “And, well, we found out that Alex has––“ a sharp, broken inhale. He turned to Alex, lip quivering. Alex wanted to tell him that it was okay and that he could do it himself, even if the word “tumor” made him want to throw up, but Henry pressed on. Because he promised, Alex realized. Because this is the only thing he knows he can help with.

Henry took a moment to try and keep his emotions hidden under that face he put on for appearances. The tight, straight-mouthed one. “He has a brain tumor.”

Screams. Gasps. Sobs. The whole nine yards. Bea was asking him if he and Henry were okay. Pez was on a rant about how it was unfair. Nora was spouting off statistics and questions about treatments. June, though, just stared at him.

“Bug,” Alex said with a wet chuckle. Henry nuzzled his face into the crook of Alex’s neck and wrapped his arms around him.

“No,” she protested. “No. This isn’t––you––“

“I know,” Alex said. “I know, Bug.”

June shook her head frantically. Everyone else was silent, probably watching her onscreen. “This isn’t real. There’s a mistake. It’s––“

“I think it’s important that we all stay calm,” Henry said, lifting his face to talk to everyone. “This is incredibly difficult for him, for all of us, and we need to provide support, not anger.”

June rolled her eyes. “It’s a lie!” she demanded. “You can’t…Alex, you can’t be sick. You––“

“June, I know, okay? It sucks. It’s fucking awful,” Alex agreed. “But it’s true. It’s true and it’s the worst but I’m going to be fine. I’ll be okay.”

June rolled her eyes at his cocky attitude, but Alex could see that she was secretly grateful for his stupid attempt at “positive vibes.”

“I’m sending you, like, a bunch of healing crystals,” she decided. “No, scratch that. I’m going to bring you a bunch of healing crystals. Let me look at flights––“

Alex groaned. “Bug, everyone, please. I haven’t even scheduled the surgery––“

“Surgery?” Bea gasped, truly horrified at the prospect of it. “They’re going to just take it out? Of your brain?”

“Not helping, Beatrice,” Henry mumbled.

Alex couldn’t help but laugh at it. It did, in retrospect, seem a bit funny to him. Doctors would slice him open. Take a look at his brain. He had a half a mind to ask for pictures of what it looked like so he could finally see if there was a reason for him being the way that he was––so intent on overworking himself the point of exhaustion, reckless beyond belief.

“I don’t want a single comment about my hair,” Alex demanded, realizing that they would probably have to shave at least some of it off for the procedure.

“Probably a bad time for more royal portraits then?” Henry asked, leaning into the humor of it all.

“I’m going to buy you some wigs,” Pez giggled. “Brightly-colored wigs. It’ll be amazing.”

“I think I’ll stick to beanies,” Alex chuckled. “It’ll make it less obvious to the press.”

“Oh, God,” June groaned, “the press! Alex, are you going to tell everyone?”

He hadn’t really gotten that far when he thought about it. He probably should have thought about it a bit more, but it seemed so irrelevant compared to everything else they all had to deal with. If he didn’t go public with it, would all of his professors and classmates have to sign NDAs? Would the doctors? It seemed like an awful amount of paperwork.

“I think I’ll start with the whole getting part of my body taken out part,” Alex said, still finding this all unreasonably ridiculous. “Take it from there, you know?”

Beside him, Henry rolled his eyes but kissed the top of his head.

“Y’all are still gross,” June said with a smile.

Alex huffed at her. “Hey, I need the support. It’s about to get ten times worse. You were there when I got my wisdom teeth taken out. You know what strong medication does to me.”

Both June and Nora groaned, obviously remembering the constant, greedy cuddles Alex tried to get when he was drugged up on pain medication after that fiasco.

“He does get really handsy when strongly medicated and loopy,” Nora warned, looking at Henry. “So, like, prepare yourself.”

Henry looked at Alex with such adoration and fondness that Alex thought that, on top of his brain tumor, his heart might just explode from the weight of his loving gaze.

“I very much look forward to it,” Henry said, his eyes still on Alex.

“Yeah, so,” June said from the screen in a feigned, disgusted tone, “it’s time for me to go. I’m calling you guys tomorrow though, okay? I love you.”

Shortly after June disconnected, everyone else told them they loved him (and Henry) and hung up, leaving them alone again. It was a relief, honestly, to have some quiet.

Alex didn’t waste any time. He kissed Henry fiercely and pushed him back onto the bed, straddling him and kissing him deeper than he’d had the chance to in what felt like forever.

Henry, still smiling, pulled away and brushed his thumbs over Alex’s jaw. “I love you,” he whispered breathlessly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex said, smiling at him. “Now take your fucking pants off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really difficult for me to write. Please let me know if it's okay, though. Low key the hardest scene I've had to do because I had to try and think about so many characters and their thought processes.


	7. Seven

It was the middle of the night on the night before Alex’s surgery. His parents and June had all flown in earlier that day so they could get themselves situated in the various rooms––June on the sofa in the library, Oscar and Ellen in the two guest rooms. Henry, of course, wasn’t able to sleep. He and Alex had gone to bed relatively early, or at least retired to their bedroom, because Alex was feeling nervous and irritable and he didn’t want to upset his family. They had shared a relaxing bath, allowing themselves to revel in the last easy night they would have for a while. After tomorrow, everything would be different. Alex would have to rest and would probably be completely out of it for a few days. The doctor had explained that Alex would have to stay in the hospital for a few days after the procedure so they could monitor him and whatnot. Henry had already packed a duffle bag full of everything either of them might need for up to a week stuck in the hospital. He’d made sure to purchase some audiobooks for Alex so he would have something to do, and in case reading made his brain hurt. The doctor said that his symptoms might get worse after immediately after the surgery, but that was normal. Over time, he would start to feel better. Then, once he was doing better, they could start either chemo or radiation therapy.

But Henry couldn’t sleep. He was listless. He kept imagining the worst––something went wrong, the doctors touched the wrong part of his brain, the surgery didn’t work, it was cancer. It broke his heart to think of Alex having to endure even more procedures. If it was cancer, and he had to do chemo, then he would be out of commission for such a long time. It would take so much of the life out of him––Henry had seen it before with his dad. It would make him tired and sick and groggy and miserable and there would be nothing Henry could do to help.

So, he gave up on sleeping. It was useless. Instead, he gracefully climbed out of bed and went onto the little balcony outside of their bedroom to look at the city. He tried not to think about the surgery and everything that came after while he looked up at the murky sky. He tried to fill his mind with all of the things he loved about Alex. Things he could hold onto for the next few days. He thought about their first kiss under the Lyndon trees on that fateful New Year’s Day. He thought about all of the precious moments that came after, all the way up until just a few hours ago when Alex, before dozing off, had made deep, slow love to Henry like it might be the last time he got to do it. And, vacantly, Henry wondered if it was. It was, at least, the last time for quite a while.

“It’s freezing,” a voice said from behind him.

He turned and saw Alex standing in the doorway, his chest bare and his curls mussed from sleep. Henry gave him a soft, nervous smile. Alex, in return, sighed and approached the railing, wrapping his arms around Henry as he looked out at the city. Henry attached himself to Alex, so happy to have him in his arms where he belonged.

“You should be sleeping,” Henry said.

“So should you.”

Henry chuckled half-heartedly. “I’m not the one with a procedure tomorrow.”

“Today,” Alex corrected, his voice soft and barley there.

Henry bent his head down to look at him. No matter how hard he tried, he hadn’t been able to figure Alex out. Sometimes, he made a big joke of it all like how he would have to wear fun hats to hide the scars and the shaved part of his head. Sometimes, though, he receded into himself. He got too quiet and sad for Henry to try and talk to him about it. Then, whenever he did manage a conversation about how Alex was feeling, it all became some big joke again. Something hilarious and sad and terrible.

“All the more reason for you to get some rest, love.”

Alex shook his head and planted a kiss on Henry’s bare collarbone. “I’ve got all day to rest. I just…”

His voice trailed off. Henry supposed he could have just ignored it––let Alex’s thoughts float away into the dark sky, but he couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Just what?”

Alex pulled himself away from Henry a bit. Henry wanted to protest at the loss of contact, but then Alex was looking up at him and wrapped his arms around Henry’s neck, pulling him closer. “I just want to be with you,” he whispered. “While I still can.”

Something broke in Henry in that moment. He pulled Alex up a bit and kissed him deeply, making sure Alex knew how much he loved him. There were no words to describe how deeply he felt for Alex. No sonnet beautiful enough, no novel long enough. There was no amount or arrangement of words that could even begin to do this feeling in his chest and stomach any justice. It consumed him completely, constantly, but especially in this moment. And as Alex kissed him back, Henry started to understand what Alex really thought about all of this. He was terrified of what might happen, but he didn’t want anyone to know how deeply it affected him. Everyone was already worried enough, even with Alex cracking jokes about it, and Henry realized that Alex wasn’t treating this like just another thing to do. He was so scared and worried and sad, but it wasn’t for himself. Never for himself. He feared for his family, for Henry. For what he was doing to all of them. Of what he could do to them if something went wrong or if things got worse.

“Let’s not sleep, then,” Henry said when he pulled away, leaving their foreheads touching.

“Really? You won’t be too tired?”

“I’ll sleep tomorrow,” Henry lied. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to rest until Alex was safe and awake after the procedure.

“I know you’re lying,” Alex said.

Henry shrugged. “What do you want to do? Round two?”

Alex shook his head, his curls tickling Henry’s face. “No. I just…I want to talk.”

Henry pulled back to look at him. “What about? The procedure?”

Alex groaned. “No. Fuck, enough about the procedure. I want to talk about anything. Everything. I want to hear all of the stories you haven’t told me yet.”

So that was how the spent the rest of their time until they had to go to the hospital. Henry lied down on his back against the headboard, and Alex nuzzled himself into Henry’s chest and drew stupid, senseless patterns on his skin with his fingertips while Henry told him stories about his childhood and uni and everything in between. Every so often, Henry would drop a kiss into Alex’s curls, sad that they might all be gone tomorrow. Sometimes, Alex would kiss Henry in the middle of a sentence like he was just so in love that he couldn’t help himself. Henry, of course, didn’t mind the interruption.

If this was their last night together, it was the perfect ending. It was a beautiful, peaceful evening with cuddles and kisses and senseless stories about who they used to be. Henry, in true Alex-fashion, made a list of all of their clandestine hook-ups and rendezvous and nights spent together, and this night resided in the first place. He wasn’t prepared for what the morning would bring, but at least he had this to hold onto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I cried when writing this.
> 
> Of course THIS is the chapter that broke me.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...
> 
> fuck.
> 
> Sorry. Read on if you dare. Please keep in mind that I have promised a happy ending and I will keep that promise but...what's better than a shit ton of angst and sadness before we get there?
> 
> Oh, also, I have a tumblr. Why have I not included it thus far? Unclear. It's bibliothesoph so give it a look if you want. It's basically just RWRB and Carry On. Also some Benedict Cumberbatch because I love him.

While Henry was in the shower before they had to leave, Alex wrote him a list.

AN INCOMPLETE (AND EVER GROWING) LIST: THINGS I LOVE ABOUT HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES

21\. How incomprehensibly sexy you look in your polo get-up.

22\. How incomprehensibly sexy you look in literally anything at all.

23\. Or in nothing at all. One of my favorites, if I’m being honest.

24\. The way you look in the quiet, overcast mornings in our bedroom. (I think it has something to do with the way the outside light illuminates off your incredibly soft hair. It makes you look like you have fairy lights in it. What kind of magic is this?)

25\. The fact that we get to wake up in the same, goddamn time-zone every day. And how that includes me waking up in your arms. (It’s my favorite place to be.)

26\. That smile you don’t think I’m awake for when you think you’re the first one up. It totally gives away how much you care about me. I fucking love it.

27\. The feeling of your lips on mine and your body pressed against mine when we see each other after a long day apart. (Remember when this used to be countless days and weeks? It hardly seems real, now. I can’t even get through a few hours without you.)

28\. The fact that you occupy so much of my mind that my body tried to give me more brain space to make room for more thoughts of you. (Is that romantic? You’re the one who knows words.)

29\. The lovely, half-crying, half-laughing face you’re making after reading that last one. (You can kindly fuck off if it’s not half as sweet and romantic as I thought it was. Excuse me, Your Royal Fucking Highness, but I happen to have a giant mass in my head right now and I’ve been told it might fuck with my cognitive functioning, thank you very much!)

30\. The fact that, despite everything with your dad and everything else, you’re reading this in a stuffy hospital waiting room while you wait for me to come back to you. And, baby, you’d better bet your ass I will.

P.S. I’m sorry if I’m grumpy when you see me next. You’re about to see the reason why, despite everything, I am not a drug-addict. Just know that, even in my drugged-up state, I love you more than I can begin to describe.

He stuck it into the book, Sense and Sensibility (because Henry was that predictable) that Henry had shoved into the top of his duffle-bag.

When they got to the hospital, Alex was separated from his family so he could go into a pre-op area. He had to put on a God-awful hospital gown and meet with the doctor who would do his procedure so he could ask any questions he might have had. At first, he couldn’t think of any, but then he remembered the biopsy aspect of the procedure and wanted to make sure that everything was in order with that.

“When do you think you’ll have results for that?” Alex asked his doctor. It wasn’t Doctor Jennings––it was a surgeon doctor (or whatever they were called, Alex didn’t really care) named Doctor Potter. Alex kind of wanted to make a joke about it, but he thought that might have been unprofessional or something and the last thing he wanted to do was tick off the doctor who was about to operate on his brain.

“We should know during the procedure. With a tissue sample taken during surgery, the pathologist will run the sample while we’re operating. It helps us get a better sense of the situation. Is that helpful or would you like more information?”

“I don’t really know how it all works,” Alex admitted, “but could you do me a favor?”

“Of course, Mr. Claremont-Diaz.”

He took a deep breath. “As soon as you find out, or as soon as you’re, like, allowed to, can you have someone tell my family the results? It––it was so hard for me to tell them about this and I can’t even imagine what will happen if it’s can––“

“Of course. As soon as we’re done with the surgery, when one of the surgeons is stitching you back up, I’ll sit down with your family to go over the procedure and inform them of the results of the biopsy. Does that sound all right?”

Alex nodded and allowed Doctor Potter to explain to him, in leman’s terms, what the procedure would entail, how long he would be under, and what would happen when he woke up. Then, after Doctor Potter was satisfied that Alex knew the details of the surgery, he had a nurse walk Alex back to a small room with a bed and a tv in the corner. His family was there waiting for him when he entered and they listened intently as the nurse carefully explained what to expect and what was happening. Henry planted his hand firmly in Alex’s so Alex could give it a squeeze when the nurse hooked him up to an IV drip.

“We’re going to take you to the operating room now, Alex,” the nurse explained.

Alex nodded and gave Henry’s hand another squeeze. “I love you,” he told him. He looked up at his family––Oscar, Ellen, and June––and tried to give them a reassuring smile. “All of you,” he said. “So fucking much.”

As the nurse wheeled Alex, still on his gurney, into the operation room, Alex thought about his family. He told his brain to cooperate and accept what was about to happen to him so he could be okay for everyone. There were so many risks with this procedure both during and after, so Alex reprimanded himself and demanded his head to get its shit together. For his parents. For June. For Henry.

As soon as the anesthesia hit him, he saw the bright lights above him swirl and morph into the blue of Henry’s eyes before sleep overtook him.

Bright. The room was too bright. Alex groaned and moved his hand to cup over his eyes so he could adjust to this fucking unreal light. Was someone trying to kill him? Was he somehow staring at the fucking sun?

“Hey, mijo,” a familiar voice said somewhere far away. It was too bright for Alex to try and find the source of it, but he knew who it was. Someone he loved, probably. His dad? He felt like his head was underwater. Sounds were murky and far away but the world was still so fucking bright. “You really with us this time?”

Alex grumbled to himself, mumbling something about the brightness of this fucking room, and begged his eyes to adjust to the light so he could see. After a moment, it wasn’t as bright anymore, but the world was still hazy.

“What do you mean ‘this time?’” he asked.

His father came into view, leaning over Alex’s bed to smile at his son. “You’ve woken up three times already. You pretty out of it, though.”

“Mm, don’t remember,” he managed. His throat felt dry and hoarse. His head pounded in his skull. Wasn’t he supposed to have gotten the tumor removed? Had it somehow grown since he came out of surgery? It certainly felt like it.

“Did it work? Is it gone?” he asked, pushing himself up a bit. It helped a little, but everything was still too fucking foggy. He needed his brain to come back online. He vaguely recalled asking the doctor a question before the procedure…something important, probably. Maybe to keep the tumor as a token? No, that didn’t seem right.

“Yeah. All gone.”

Alex smiled and looked around the room. It seemed like it was just his dad, though. “Everyone else?” he asked. Was there fucking sand in his mouth? It felt like there was sand in his mouth.

“I can bring them back here if you want,” his dad offered. “I know Henry’s sitting outside the door. Your mom and June are waiting in the waiting room. We didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Henry,” Alex said, smiling.

His dad chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll go get him. Your mom and June, too, okay?”

Alex tried to nod but his head felt heavy and wrong, so he just managed a weak thumbs-up. His dad left the room and, almost instantly, Henry appeared in the doorway. He looked exhausted and sad and Alex knew that there was something fucking important that he had asked someone at some point but he couldn’t remember what.

“Hi, love,” Henry said, still in the doorway.

Too far. Too fucking far. “C’mere,” Alex grinned.

Henry complied and moved to sit at the chair by Alex’s bed. Alex reached out for his hand but missed the mark by a few inches, grazing Henry’s knee instead. Henry smiled at him and gave him his hand since it was obvious that Alex’s motor skills were a little subpar at the moment.

“Missed you.”

Henry smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I missed you, too.”

Harry Potter. He had asked Harry Potter a question about something. But Harry Potter had been a doctor and he didn’t really look like Harry Potter.

“Bi…” Alex tried, struggling to recall the word he had asked Harry Potter about.

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yes,” he agreed with a nod, “you are.”

Alex wanted to roll his eyes but his head hurt too much. “No, babe,” he argued, giving Henry’s hand a weak squeeze, “I asked him about it.”

“Who?”

“Harry Potter,” Alex told him.

Henry chuckled. “You asked Harry Potter if you were bi? Or did you ask him if he was bi?”

Alex groaned. He remembered that, at one point, he considered himself to be very smart and that he knew a lot of words. In two languages, if he recalled correctly. Why couldn’t he just remember whatever important information he had asked Harry Potter? “Doctor!” he said, feeling proud of himself for remembering that word.

“Oh, Doctor Potter?” Henry provided.

Alex reached over and tapped Henry’s nose while saying, “boop.” “Yeah, I asked him something. Bi…pony? Bipes? What’s the word, Henry? I asked him something. It was important, I think.”

Henry’s face fell. “Oh, the biopsy.”

Alex grinned. Biopsy. The word had been on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah, that.” It came back to him almost instantly. All funniness from his drug-induced delirium gone in the blink of an eye. “Fuck. The biopsy, right. The sample. What did––“

“Let’s wait until you’re feeling better to discuss this,” Henry tried.

Alex shook his head. It hurt to do it, but he managed it. “No, no, no, tell me. Please, Hen. Baby. Sweetheart. Am I good? It was benign, right? Totally benign?”

Henry drew circles on the back of Alex’s hand. “I got your list,” he said.

Alex may have been a bit drugged up and feeling slightly high, but he knew that Henry was dodging his question. “Henry, you need to tell me what they said. Please.”

Henry shook his head. “I really shouldn’t. I should––“

“Please,” Alex begged, feeling for some reason like he was about to cry.

Henry sighed and looked down in his lap. “I love you,” Henry said. “So much. I feel like I don’t say that enough.”

Alex blinked back tears. He felt like he might throw up. “Henry,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “Please.”

Henry’s eyes went up to meet his and Alex could see that he was crying, too. How had he not seen it before? The red, puffy rims of Henry’s eyes? The paleness of his face? This wasn’t the first time Henry had cried since Alex went under. By the looks of it, Henry had been crying for hours.

“Fuck,” Alex groaned, letting his head fall a bit backward onto the pillow.

“Indeed,” Henry agreed sadly. “Fuck.”


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cute little fluff piece!
> 
> JK!
> 
> An emotional breakdown! In the toilet! So cute! Haha!
> 
> Someone please take away my laptop. And my AO3 account.
> 
> I'd ask for you to also take my sanity, but I think it's pretty obvious that I lost that on chapter one.

Of all of the reactions Henry could have imagined, what happened was certainly not one of them. He had expected Alex to get angry––to growl, to rub his temples the way he did when he was exasperated––but not this. Not this at all.

This was, in its purest form, sadness. Defeat. There was a moment where they locked eyes and then Alex’s lip trembled and heavy sobs overtook his body. It was like the seizure in a way––the way his muscles tightened and convulsed unsteadily––but this was somehow scarier. Henry had never seen Alex cry like this before. Usually, when Alex was upset about something, his first reaction was anger. He would clench his fists or maybe grit his teeth and hiss in frustration, but never this. There was never this entirely, heartbreakingly visible sense of sadness and desperation to him. They had both cried a lot recently, but they were softer tears. Quiet sobs that could be washed away by gentle touches and affirmations. Small waves that broke and quickly receded back into themselves. But Alex was a tidal wave now. The force and power of it sent Henry’s heart swirling into lost debris somewhere he couldn’t quite place.

The door opened and Alex’s family came in. They instantly rushed to Alex’s side and Henry felt something rise in his throat––something pulse and thrum in his ears. While Alex’s family wrapped their arms around their sobbing boy, Henry stumbled out of the room. The walls were closing in on him. Machines beeped in his eardrums until all he could hear were the angry beeps of a heart rate monitor somewhere inside of himself. He rushed into the bathroom down the hall and quickly grabbed onto the sides of the porcelain sink to steady himself. His arm muscles worked harder than they ever had to hold him upright––to keep him from falling down.

It had been…manageable before, somehow. Alex had cracked jokes and been strong enough for the both of them with his quick wit and brave smiles. With Alex as his anchor, it was easy for Henry to stay moored to the calm, quiet bay he found himself in. But now Alex had cut Henry loose with his tears and frustration and overwhelming sadness and Henry was lost again. His head couldn’t stay above the water. The current dragged him down and down until he couldn’t even breathe. He didn’t even register staggering backward and crashing into a stall door as silent, airless sobs and wheezes overtook him. He was rendered completely useless. He thought he should have been used to this feeling by now, but it still took him by surprise. He’d felt useless for most of his life in different ways, but this was all-consuming. It filled him up from the inside and demanded all of his attention.

“Henry,” someone said. His vision was failing him––his eyes were too wet and salty and full for him to see.

There was a hand on his shoulder.

“Henry,” the voice said again. For a second, he thought it might have been his dad. He rubbed his eyes, still hyperventilating, and saw Shaan crouched in front of him.

“He––“

“Shhh,” Shaan cooed, pulling Henry into his chest and wrapping his arms around his shaking frame. Another mangled sob escaped his throat as he let himself be hugged. “I know. We just got here. It’s going to be okay, Henry.”

Henry shook his head. He was sure of a lot of things, but not this. How could things be okay if Alex was crying like that? How could the one thing that had broken Alex not kill him altogether? 

“It’s cancer,” Henry sobbed, realizing that he was soaking Shaan’s soft shirt with his tears.

Shaan’s hand rubbed his back. “I know. This is nothing like last time, though,” he tried. “It’s early stages. You did the right thing by getting him examined right away.”

Wrong. It was all Henry could think. The word played over and over again in his mind on a constant loop. Wrong––he hadn’t brought Alex to the hospital right away. Wrong––he had waited too long. Wrong––Alex wasn’t okay. Wrong––everything Henry was doing was wrong. Everything he had done was wrong. That night under the Lyndon Tree, the way Alex looked under the moonlight. The way his curls bounced just so. The way Henry had pulled him in and kissed him…

“It’s my fault,” he realized.

“It’s not your fault.”

Henry shook his head and pushed Shaan off of himself. He was too close. He was in the danger zone. He stuck his chin out at him, defiant and sure. “I did this.”

“Hen––“

“It’s me!” he cried, new tears flowing freely down his cheeks. “I’m doing something. I must be doing something. Somehow, some way, I’m doing this to them. Dad and now Alex…I’m the cancer, Shaan. Don’t you see? Don’t you understand? I’m making them sick. My fault…Christ, it’s bee my fault all along, hasn’t it? I never…I couldn’t have imagined…”

When he thought about it in more detail, it made sense to him. A moment of vivid clarity. It probably had something to do with his heart––the one on the outside of his body. It had to have been poisonous. Toxic. He had lived with himself for so long now that he must have been immune, but when other people got too close, it broke something in them. It changed them for the worse.

“No,” Shaan said decisively. “I understand that you’re upset, and you have every right to be, but don’t you know what you’re doing?”

Henry shook his head, positive that Shaan wasn’t talking about his big cancer-causing revelation.

“While you’re in here blaming yourself, Alex is in the other room thinking that he’s scared you off for good. I know this is hard for you, truly, but think about how hard this is for him, Henry. His whole life has just been pulled out from under him. He knows about Arthur and he grieves for your loss every day. And now he’s grieving for himself and what he’s lost, and you need to be there for him. He can’t get through this without you. I’m sure this news has hit him hard, but what’s hitting him harder is the thought that you won’t be there anymore. You’re so afraid that he’ll leave you that you’ve gone and left him first.”

Henry’s heart caught in his throat. He stared at Shaan, realizing that this was the longest, deepest conversation that they had ever had. He’d never heard Shaan say so many words at a time. And, well, he was right. Henry would have time to grieve and be sad but now was not that time. Now he had to put on a brave face and be there for his boyfriend who had just his entire life changed forever.

Shaan helped him up and helped him dry off and wipe his face. When the tears stopped coming and Henry looked presentable again, Shaan gave him another hug.

“He loves you so much,” Shaan said. “Now you need to show him that you love him, too.”

Henry nodded, took a deep breath, and opened the bathroom door.


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, missing a day of updating????
> 
> How dreadful! 
> 
> Here's a long chapter to make up for it!
> 
> WARNING: FLUFF!!!!!
> 
> (did I do it right???)

So.

Hospitals were fucking boring. Alex was so totally over being trapped in his little bed with the machines hooked up to him and the huge ordeal that was a trip to the bathroom. It wouldn’t have been so bad if his phone didn’t pierce his eyes with tiny, blue-light knives or if words on a page didn’t make him want to rip out the stitches on his head. The problem was that all he could really do was talk and listen to people. He’d talked so much that he was sure his mouth would fall off. His parents were almost always at the hospital with him to ask him how he was doing and to see if he needed anything. Cash, Zahra, and Shaan came by, too. Nora called him at least once a day to fill him in on current events and what was happening out in the world. Bea and Pez FaceTimed Henry a bit and always tried to talk to Alex, but the pictures on the phone made him squint and get a headache so they spent most of their time talking to Henry. Alex chimed in when he felt strongly about a particular topic, but that was about it.

On the second evening of his stay at the hospital, he told Henry about his boredom.

“I’m dying” he said with no context. Henry had been reading at the time, silent but still a relaxing presence by Alex’s side. His eyes widened at the words that tumbled out of Alex’s mouth and Alex instantly regretted about half of his life and his decisions.

“Okay, not––I just––I’m bored,” he groaned. “The boredom is killing me. Not, uh, you know.”

“I see,” Henry said. “What can I do to help?”

That fucking question, for some fucking reason, made Alex growl from somewhere deep in his throat. Henry and his politeness. Henry and his big heart. “I don’t know.”

Henry looked at him for a moment like Alex was a puzzle that he had no clue how to put together. Then he reached for his phone and typed something in. “I bought you some audiobooks,” he said, scrolling through them. “Would you like to listen to one? I can read you the options and set it up.”

Alex thought about it for a moment. “What are you reading?”

Henry looked down at the book in his lap. “Uh, Northanger Abbey,” he said. “It’s Jane Austen.”

“Okay,” Alex said, settling down against the pillow.

Hey raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

Alex gestured to the book. “I’m ready.”

“Ready for what? I haven’t even read you the options.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “For Northanger Abbey. Can you read it to me?”

A moment of recognition and then slight embarrassment passed on Henry’s face. “You want me to read to you?”

“If you’d be so kind,” Alex said, trying to mimic Henry’s posh accent.

It became a habit for Henry to read to him. It filled awkward lulls in the day when Alex was bored but didn’t have anything he wanted to say. Henry made a big show of it, too. He did voices for different characters and put so emotion into each sentence that Alex could have sworn Henry had written the damn books, too. Sometimes, after a particularly long passage or at the end of a chapter, Henry would look up at Alex and tell him how much he loved him. It made Alex warm and fuzzy all over when Henry did that.

For their first night back home, Alex still wasn’t allowed to shower. He complained about it a lot until Henry rolled his eyes, grabbed his wrist, and brought him into the bathroom. June and his parents (now joined by Leo) were making small-talk in the living room and drinking a celebratory bottle of red wine for Alex’s release. When Alex had tried to make a comment about how red wine looked like blood and drinking blood seemed like a weird way to celebrate, everyone had let out this groan and quietly asked Henry to get Alex settled upstairs.

“The doctor said I can’t shower, Hen,” Alex grumbled as Henry rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows.

“Yes, I know. That’s why you’re having a bath.”

Alex was pretty sure that a bath was also not recommended, even if he didn’t get his head wet, but he wasn’t about to argue––not when HRH Prince of Sexy Bath-time was demanding it. Henry bent over and turned the faucet on, swiping his fingers under the steady stream of water to check for the temperature. Seemingly satisfied, he started to help Alex get his tee shirt off, taking extra care as he slid it off and around his head. Alex smiled at him, his bare chest feeling gross and slimy from long days in the hospital. Henry shot him a smile back and started to help him out of his sweatpants until Alex was in nothing but his blue, plaid boxers and socks that said, “TACO TIME!”. Henry went to pull his boxers down, but Alex stopped him.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Alex growled, that glint back in his eye. He was glad to feel it return––he was sure he’d lost it in the surgery.

“All right,” he shrugged. His long, nimble fucking fingers started to calmly undo the buttons on his shirt. He looked up at Alex from under his long lashes and Alex gritted his teeth, wanting nothing more than to help his boyfriend get his fucking pants off. It had only been a few days since they’d last seen each other like this, naked and beautiful, and Alex had had enough of it. He was sad and scared and Henry’s naked, wanting body was his emotional support.

Alex never grew tired of how Henry looked behind closed doors. It wasn’t even just that his body was perfect and mouthwatering––it was that soft, Alex-reserved smile that tugged at his lips and that sparkle in his impossibly blue eyes. It did funny things to both Alex’s heart and mind to see Henry like this. In private moments, he wasn’t a prince at all––he was just a very beautiful, kind-hearted man. Alex let his eyes trail over every new piece of exposed skin like it was the first time he had seen it all. Henry’s cheeks flushed under Alex’s steady, hungry gaze.

When they were both naked (Alex took care of his own boxers and socks), they climbed into the giant tub. Henry sat with his back against the edge of it and Alex made himself comfortable between his open legs. Henry hummed as Alex gave his ass a little shake against him.

“Oh,” Henry said from behind him, “hello.”

“Hi.”

Alex thought that he must have looked ridiculous like this––sharing a bath with the Prince of Wales while sporting a very ugly bandaged wrapped around his head. He laughs a little bit as a very distinct image of this moment appears in his mind. It would be in some silly tabloid or another––a ridiculous, glossy photo of the two of them sharing a bath after an incredibly difficult string of days. Henry looking all perfect and posh and Alex with a shit-eating grin, bags under his eyes, and a thick, white bandage wrapped around his head. He realizes that, if he wants to go outside in the near future, he’ll have to invest in some beanies and other assorted headwear. It would have to be something casual and normal-looking. Not something that would draw attention to it. Unfortunately, Alex never really considered himself to be a hat person. Fun jackets and interesting shirts were sort of his thing, but never hats. Maybe he could get a maroon beanie and wear it with his glasses––claim he’s going for a hipster look instead of one that screams “someone just cut a hole in my head.”

“I’m looking forward to this bandage getting removed,” Henry said.

“What, you don’t think it makes me look sexy? Not interested in nurse and patient role-play?”

Henry scoffed. Alex felt it against his back, sending little tremors up and down his spine. He leaned into it and back onto Henry who promptly (and gently) pushed him away.

“Oi,” Henry said, giving him a stern look. “None of that. My shoulder is too bony for your head.”

“But I miss cuddling with you,” Alex whined, feeling a bit like a touch-starved, attention-seeking toddler. “And just, like, you in general.”

“Darling, I’m literally right behind you.”

Alex sighed. It was a bit harder for him now. Talking. He could think of all of the words he wanted to say, the ideas he wanted to convey, but they didn’t come out right. The doctor had said that was normal––as was his vision problem, a loss of balance, and the general weakness that sat heavy in his stomach. It was so draining. He loved his family, he really did, but their constant fussing over him made him feel depleted and run-down. So far, Henry had done a good job of learning when to give Alex attention and when to let him recede into his head for a bit.

“I know. I meant more like alone time. Just you, you know? Without my family.” That sounded wrong, he realized. “I mean, I love them and everything, but the constant worrying and asking me how I’m feeling…it’s exhausting.”

“I’m sure. Just remember that they’re doing it because they love you and care about you. I think it’s hard for them knowing that, in a few days, they’ll have to leave you.”

Alex wanted to tell Henry that leaving was okay. It was on the tip of his tongue. When Henry had told him (sort of) about the results and Alex had just sort of broken, Henry left. Alex saw him leave the room. He was gone for a bit, off somewhere doing something that Alex tried not to think about, but he came back. When he came back, he had been with Cash and his hair was mussed and his eyes were red. Alex knew, vacantly, that Henry had been crying. But he didn’t say anything about it. He just sat down next to Alex and took his hand and placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles. So Alex hadn’t said anything, either. He knew this was hard for everyone. That this was hard for Henry, especially. Alex had said, quite frequently in his mind, that he would go to war for Henry. Fight anyone or anything that had ever hurt him. He decided that this was what he needed to say.

“Have I ever told you that I’d go to war for you?” he asked, turning his head a bit so he could see Henry’s gorgeous face. See the flicker of emotions that flashed across it as he registered Alex’s question.

“I don’t think so,” he decided. “I believe you mentioned your willingness to fight anyone that had ever hurt me, but I’ve not heard a declaration of war.”

Alex smiled at him. Softly. Sweetly. “Well, I would go to war for you. I am, I think.”

Henry cocked an eyebrow at him, obviously confused.

“Like, the whole treatment and whatever the fuck is about to happen––I’m fighting something that’s hurting you. I just wanted you to know that.”

Henry grinned at him. “I do know that, love. And I love you so much for being so strong about all of this. I––” he took a deep breath. “You’re amazing. Incredible. Truly.”

“So are you, baby. I do have something to ask you, though. Very important.”

He felt Henry’s hand give his waist a little squeeze to let him know that he was listening.

“I know this is a lot to ask, and I know that it’ll be hard on you––“

“What is it?”

Alex took a deep breath, trying his hardest to keep a straight, serious face. “Will you go hat shopping with me?”

He could practically feel Henry roll his eyes. “You’re an idiot,” he said.

Grinning, Alex turned to face him. “I’m going to need your honest opinion on my beanie choices. I refuse to go around looking like a dumbass because my boyfriend didn’t tell me my beanie was stupid.”

Henry laughed at him. “I’ll get you a thousand beanies,” Henry promised. “We can convert the guest room into a beanie closet. It’ll be brilliant. Just…beanies. On every surface.”

Alex rolled his eyes and kissed Henry’s nose. “Well, if the Crown’s paying for it…”


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I have explicitly requested for someone to confiscate my laptop. Where you at, people? Take it away from me!
> 
> HELP ME!
> 
> Also: a bit more fluff (like an ounce) and Henry gets a push in the right direction.

ALEX CLAREMONT-DIAZ: TRENDSETTING OR COVERING-UP?

Megan Wilkerman

Us Weekly

It’s no secret that our favorite member of The White House Trio, FSOTUS Alex Claremont-Diaz, has been spotted sporting various beanies for the past week. Oftentimes, in addition to these beanies, Alex is wearing thick-rimmed glasses that we’ve never seen on him before. Is he going full-hipster or is there something going on here?

To get a better idea of the meaning behind Alex’s new, trendy look, we spoke to one of his classmates from NYU Law School. “He’s been out of classes for the past few weeks,” this unnamed student told us. “The professors don’t even call his name anymore.” So, given this insider information, we figure that Alex is taking a long, excused absence from his classes for some reason. Most sightings of him recently have also featured either his sister, June Claremont-Diaz, Senator Oscar Diaz, or HRH Prince Henry of Wales. While the fact that he’s with his friends, family, and boyfriend is not necessarily cause for alarm, it does make us wonder why he’s never alone anymore. Up until recently, a lot of Alex’s pictures were of him with a backpack and a giant cup of coffee on his way to class or to the school library.

It also raises the question of why his family is in the city for such a prolonged visit. Even his mother, President Claremont, has been sighted around New York City either with her son or with another member of the family. Given the photos of Alex on the ground outside of a Starbucks that trended only a few weeks ago, we have to wonder if there’s something bigger than just a brief pause from school and a new look going on here. Sources from the scene of his accident report that it was, confirmed by a doctor on sight, a seizure that brought Alex to the ground outside of Starbucks. He was then spotted getting into a black SUV with both HRH Prince Henry, a security guard, and the doctor from the scene of the incident. Whatever’s going on with Alex, we hope he’s okay and that he will tell us what’s going on!

Henry groaned and threw the magazine back on the small coffee table in the waiting room. This was Alex’s first check-up for the surgery and he had already been back with the doctor for about thirty minutes. Henry was going, maybe, totally insane while waiting. They had both been looking forward to this appointment since it meant that Alex got to finally get his bandage taken off and hopefully the all-clear to get his head wet again. They were also checking out his symptoms to make sure his brain would return to full function in the near future. So far, Alex had only had a few hiccups. Henry had read up on what to expect after his procedure, and Alex was having fewer symptoms than most. His verbal skills were still very strong, even if his word choices and sentence structures weren’t always the most effective and his balance was, on average, very good. He was still getting tired a lot and his eyes still hurt if he overused them, but at least he was able to look at screens and words without tears gathering in his eyes.

Just as Henry thought about how proud he was of his boyfriend, Alex emerged from behind the closed door with a smile on his face. His beanie was in one hand which meant that his head was on display. Henry instantly rushed up to meet him for both a hug and a better look at how the healing was going. Alex’s arms found their way around Henry’s body and pulled him in close.

Since Henry had the height advantage, he could see Alex’s head quite well. The part they had shaved off was practically in the center of his head, a bit closer to his forehead than the nape of his neck, and was in a messy little square. Little hairs were already poking their way through his scalp, though, eager to grow and join the field of curls up on his head. The actual scar was looking pretty good with the stitches mostly gone and just a few thick, reddish lines, in a spot that would never be obvious to the press. Henry, of course, had told Alex that he was fine if Alex wanted to make a statement about all of this to the press, but Alex decided that he wanted to wait and see if he could get through it all without having to mention it.

“Looks brilliant, love,” Henry told him, planting a kiss on it. He had been scared to kiss it before when it was bandaged, but it was healing quite nicely.

“Really? I feel like the bald spot looks stupid. And how bad is the scarring? I didn’t get a good look.”

“Would you like me to take a picture for you?”

Alex thought about it for a moment and shook his head. He slipped his beanie––a dark, mustard yellow one––on his head and grinned at Henry like it was some incredible feat. “Nah, it’d probably freak me out.”

“Well, it looks fine,” Henry assured him, taking his hand to bring them back home. “What did the doctor say? Anything interesting?”

Alex shrugged again. There was a lot of shrugging these days. “He gave me the number for an oncologist. I have to meet with her tomorrow.”

Henry froze for a second, his hand outstretched and reaching for the door handle. He took a deep breath, readjusted himself, and opened the door. “Well, that’s probably for the best.”

They were on their way to the elevator now. Henry was determined to get Alex home because they had already had a long day. It was hard for Alex to do more than one real outing a day, and they’d already done some thank-you gift shopping for his family and lunch before the doctor’s appointment. Henry figured that Alex must have been drained––he knew that he was.

Alex tugged on his arm, making Henry turn to look at him. “Baby,” Alex said, his free hand on his hip.

“What?”

“Hen, you don’t have to come.”

Henry raised an eyebrow at him. “What? Of course I do.”

Alex shook his head, clearly having already made up his mind. It made Henry a bit sad. Hurt, maybe. Some emotion he couldn’t quite place. It was hard for both of them, and it would continue to be hard, but Henry was fully prepared to be there for every moment of Alex’s treatment and recovery. After his talk with Shaan, he realized that it wasn’t fair for Alex to have to deal with both Henry’s feelings and his own recovery. It would be too much, even for him. And Henry really didn’t want to be a burden.

“You really don’t have to. I can go myself or have June or my dad take me. I––I think you should use the time to make an appointment with your therapist. Do a Skype or something.”

Henry’s mind reeled for a moment. “What? Alex, I’m fine. You––“

“Will be totally fine without you. It’s just a consultation and an exam. And, like, honestly, I’m kind of worried about you. No. I mean, I’m really worried about you. I love you so much and you’ve been so brave and strong, but I feel like you need someone to talk to about all of this.”

Henry wanted to fight him on this––wanted to insist that he was fine and managing and that it would all be okay. But he knew that Alex was right. Honestly, he was a bit mad at himself for not scheduling an appointment sooner. It was the right thing to do for both of them. If Henry could sort out his thoughts and feelings with his therapist, he would feel better and be able to be better support for Alex. Of all of the things he had done in his life, getting Alex through this was his most massive, most challenging task.

He nodded in defeat and pressed the button for the elevator. “You’re right,” he admitted, his head hung. “I can still schedule it around the––“

“No need,” Alex said with a smile. “It’ll be great. We’ll both be with doctors at the same time. It’s like a fun little double date.”

Henry rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but kiss Alex’s cheek at that. God, Alex was such a fucking idiot and Henry was so far gone. “Sounds like the worst double date ever,” Henry said.

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. They stepped inside. Alex pressed the button for the lobby and the doors slid shut again.

“What if I promise lots of cuddles and Netflix after?”

Henry smirked at him. “Tempting, but I know you’ll just fall asleep and leave me to finish it by myself and carry you upstairs.”

Alex scrunched his nose at him. “When have you ever carried me upstairs?”

“Last night, for starters. How else do you think you woke up in our bed after having fallen asleep on the sofa?”

Alex opened his mouth, clearly trying to argue, but then he shut it again. The door opened into the lobby and they got out. By the front desk, Cash awaited them with a nervous smile. He took them to the back exit where they were less likely to be seen by any paparazzi or the public. Almost as soon as they got in the car, Alex fell asleep with his head in Henry’s lap. It made Henry laugh at the sight of his little, over drained boyfriend with his yellow beanie and glasses. He did look like a proper hipster with the new getup. He also, in Henry’s opinion, looked incredibly adorable. Who knew that all it would take to send it heart into love-sick overdrive was a knitted cap? His forebears would be so ashamed.

“How’d everything go?” Cash asked, looking back at Henry through the rearview mirror.

Henry let his fingers fiddle with the curls that had escaped the confines of Alex’s beanie. “He’s got an appointment with an oncologist tomorrow.”

“Shit,” Cash mumbled.

Henry sighed and continued to play with his sleepy boyfriend’s hair. “Yeah. I suppose it’s best to just get it over with, but it’s still terrifying. The press is sure to find out soon enough, especially when he loses his hair.”

“I hadn’t thought about that. You gonna be okay?”

Henry blinked at him for a moment, completely caught off-guard by the question. “Er, yes? I mean, it’s hard for everyone.”

“I’m asking you,” Cash argued. “Specifically. I know that your dad…well, I just wanted to let you know that it’s okay to not be okay. Alex is tough as nails and stubborn as hell. You don’t have to be strong for him, you know?”

Henry looked down at his sleeping (and currently drooling) boyfriend and smiled softly to himself. 

So, when Alex went to the oncologist with both his dad and June the next day, Henry had the entire house to himself for his Skype call with his therapist. He knew it would be hard to sort out his feelings and figure out ways to check in with himself with everything else going on, but he would try. For Alex. If talking to a therapist would help him handle all of this better, he would try it. It was Alex's only real request, and Henry would go to the ends of the earth to help his boyfriend, even if that meant helping himself, first. 

He took a deep breath, opened his laptop, and phoned his therapist.

“Hello, Henry,” she said when she picked up the call. “From what you’ve mentioned, I think we have a lot to discuss.”

Henry wanted to shut the laptop. He wanted to insist that he was fine and that he was just doing this because his boyfriend asked him to. Instead, he nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. “I think we do.”


	12. 12

“Got everything, love?” Henry asked him early one morning. His dad and June had gone back to their respective homes the night before, wanting to stay but knowing that extending their time in New York would just draw more attention to it all. June had left them an abundance of healing crystals and essential oils that were supposed to heal and calm. Oscar had left them with a few casserole dishes of home-cooked meals that they could reheat later in the week. Now, alone again, he and Henry were getting ready to leave for Alex’s first chemotherapy appointment. He supposed he could have done it at home, in the safety and comfort of the brownstone, but it felt like an imposition on their lives. If he did it at home, there would be one room and chair and view that would remind him of this. So, better to do it at the hospital. Leave all of the bad feelings there in white, sterile walls.

“Think so,” Alex said, zipping the bag. His oncologist, a nice woman with sympathetic eyes and a strong handshake, gave him pamphlets of what to bring to his first session and what to expect. So, per her recommendation, Alex had loaded up a bag full of a soft blanket, a nice pillow, and his laptop. He figured that Henry would read to him, so he packed a few books, too. Ones he knew that Henry liked. It would be a long, draining day for both of them. He wanted to make sure that Henry was okay, too, so he stuffed some Jaffa Cakes in there, too.

“Here,” Henry offered, bending down to effortlessly hoist the big bag over his shoulder. Alex beamed at him, his heart soaring at the sight of his beautiful, strong boyfriend’s feat of strength. If Alex wasn’t on his way to his first chemo appointment, he would have enjoyed to take Henry apart with his teeth. It was a nice thought, even if he couldn’t act on it.

“Thanks,” Alex managed, trying to control himself. He felt slightly ashamed for reacting to this simple gesture in such a way, but he figured that he was allowed to feel like this. Not only was this a hard time––but his boyfriend was the fucking best person on the planet. A literal fucking prince.

“Of course. Ready?

Alex shrugged. “As I’ll ever be, I guess. Gonna be boring as hell,” he said.

Henry cracked a smile and laced Alex’s fingers through his own. He leaned down and kissed the top of Alex’s head––his new favorite spot––and led them out the front door. Zahra and Shaan were waiting for them in a black SUV out front. Shaan helped Henry put the bag in the trunk while Zahra opened the door and helped Alex climb into the backseat, Henry close behind him. Once everyone was buckled in and ready to go, they drove off. Alex made quick work of finding and holding Henry’s hand again, rubbing senseless patterns onto the back of it with his thumb.

Henry had been feeling a bit better about everything since he started talking to his therapist, but Alex could see how this was all getting to him. The worry and panic in his eyes was probably hidden to everyone else, but Alex knew him like the back of his own hand. He could read every crease and furrow like it was spread out below him. He had the key––he’d practically made it himself. Each look, breath, and movement was easy to understand. Henry liked to think that he hid himself pretty well, but Alex was the master of taking off his armor and pulling back the curtains. So, when Henry shot him a smile from the corner of his mouth, Alex knew it meant that Henry was nervous but trying not to show it. He squeezed Henry’s hand a bit harder, just to let him know that it was okay to feel that way. He didn’t need to hide himself anymore––not for Alex.

It took a while for everything to get set up. A helpful nurse explained everything she was doing while she did it, like anyone really cared or knew what she was saying. Then, after a bit, everything was situated. Alex closed his eyes when the medicine started to run through the IV and into his bloodstream, letting himself try to feel the cool medicine filling him up and getting swept up in the current in his veins.

“Feeling okay?” Henry asked, his hand still firmly in Alex’s. Shaann and Zahra had gone off to find some ice cream for Alex since the nurse suggested that he snack and stay hydrated through this.

Alex nodded. “Yeah. Feels a bit weird, though. Cold.”

Henry frowned at him like he wanted to help but had no idea how to. “If it’s still a problem after a few minutes, I can––“

“It’ll be fine,” Alex assured him. “I just have to adjust.”

“I wish you didn’t have to,” Henry whispered. “I wish you didn’t have to go through any of this at all.”

“I know, baby. But we’re here now and it’s happening, so we might as well make the best of it.” He shot Henry a genuine smile, just to reassure him that everything was okay. Henry weakly smiled back at him. “Hey, you scheduled an appointment for today, right?”

When planning these treatments, Alex had made sure that Henry’s appointments got scheduled in, too. It made him feel better knowing that Henry had the time and space to get his own help, so Alex had suggested that they plan a therapy call during Alex’s treatment times. It was a bit of ruse, if he was being honest. He told Henry that he liked the idea of them both doing these sorts of things at the same time, but he really just wanted Henry to have at least an hour to not be around all of the cancer stuff. Plus, Alex had a plan that he could only pull off if Henry wasn’t with him for every second of this.

“Yes,” Henry said with a nod. “I told her I wanted to get you situated first, though. I’ll call when Shaan and Zahra return with your ice cream. I’ll feel better leaving you knowing that there’s at least someone here to keep an eye on you.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Please. What kind of trouble could I possibly get into here?”

Henry raised a challenging eyebrow at him. “Is that even a question? I have the feeling that you’ll get into some sort of long-winded debate with one of the nurses and, in an act of retaliation and vengeance, she’ll switch your medication with a sedative. Then, when I come back and see you passed out in your chair, I’ll have no choice but to accuse her of treason. Of course, this will––“

“Jesus fucking Christ, Hen,” he gasped, truly surprised at Henry’s elaborate war-sparking fantasy. “Why?”

Henry shrugged. “Apologies. I’ve had lots of time to think about this sort of thing.”

“Your writer brain needs to take a sedative, not me.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “You’re quite rude, you know.”

Alex flashed him a toothy grin. “Cancer charm, baby. Gotta love it.”

Once Zahra and Shaan returned––with ice cream, thankfully––Henry left to go call his therapist. When Henry was out of the room, Alex turned to the PPOs.

“Hey, did y’all get it?”

Zahra rolled her eyes, reached into her bag, and produced the object in question. It was a beautiful, ornate leather journal with gold-trimmed pages. On the front, carved into the leather and painted in cold, cursive script, were the words “History, Huh?”. After his surgery, when he found out that he had cancer, he placed a special order to get it made. It was this whole plan that had come to him late one night when he couldn’t sleep. He’d almost forgotten about it until about two days ago when the shop-keeper had called him to let him know that it was ready for pick-up. Since the whole element of surprise was a huge part of it, he hadn’t been able to just go pick it up himself. Henry would have tried to go with him or found out one way or another, so he had requested Zahra to get it and bring it to him.

“I still don’t understand what it’s for,” Zahra said, arms folded across her chest.

“It’s for Henry,” Alex explained. “I’m going to write these, like, letters to him whenever I get treatments. I thought it was––shit, Shaan, will he even like it? Was it a stupid idea? It was probably a stupid idea. I mean––“

“He’ll love it,” Shaan assured him. “It’s perfect.”

Alex grinned up at them and, after getting a pen from Shaan, set to work on his first letter.

Treatment One

H,

It’s kind of hilarious that you have no idea this is happening as I write this. I’ve never been a good secret-keeper, especially when it comes to keeping secrets from you, so I hope I can finish this without you somehow finding out about it.

Anyway, since these treatments are going to terrible, long, and boring, I thought I’d write you some love letters. I know that this whole thing sucks, but I hope that these letters make up for it. I’ve thought long and hard about all of the ways I could possibly bring a smile to your face, even a small one, and this seems like my best bet. Then, if anything happens to me or something goes wrong, you can look back at these letters and know how much I love you. Which is, like, a fucking lot.

For this one, I want to talk about the first time I saw you. You’re probably thinking Rio, which is kind of right, but I’m talking about before then, actually. June has an addiction to tabloids. It started before we were even in The White House––back when we were young and stupid and weird. Those teen magazines always had these posters in the middle of them, probably for young girls to put up on their walls to gawk at the hot celebrity guys like Justin Bieber or something. There was this one, though, of a handsome prince. For some reason, I was totally drawn to it. He was only a year older than me and he had this beautiful, blue eyes and a kind smile.

When June wasn’t around, I would sneak into her room and find that magazine. I would pull it open to page thirteen and look at the picture of the prince. I’d run my fingers over his hair, wondering how it would feel in real life. Although I didn’t know it at the time, I was totally in love with this young, handsome prince. Sneaking into June’s room to trace my fingers over his hair and sharp jawline became my vice. I was obsessed with the idea of him and his sandy hair and gorgeous smile.

Years later, I think about it a lot. And, I have to tell you, the real thing is so much better. The prince has grown into himself––become even more beautiful with time. And his hair isn’t just glossy paper––I’ve run my fingers through it enough to know. It’s softer than I ever could have imagined, actually. And his eyes have this sparkle to them that you can’t see in print. And his smile in real life…God, it does something funny to my insides. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that I’m under some sort of spell. Because there’s no way that a love this consuming and deep and powerful can just, like, exist in real life, right?

Baby, I’m so happy to be able to be under your spell. I’m so glad that, of all of the people in the world, I’m the one who gets to know what it’s like to sleep in your arms, feel your hair, see your smile. Of all of the decisions I’ve made and things I’ve done in my life, you are the best one. And, honestly, I can’t imagine having to go a day without you by my side.

Yours,

Alex

P.s. I'm switching it up. Here are some lyrics instead of the usual quotes from letters...I'm making you a playlist. 

“I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words. How wonderful life is while you're in the world” (Elton John, “Your Song”)

"You must have known that I was lonely because you came to my rescue, and I know that this must be heaven. How could so much love be inside of you?" (Stevie Wonder, "You Are the Sunshine of My Life"


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex finally snaps. 
> 
> I rewrote this maybe four times. 
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bibliothesoph

It had been almost three weeks since Alex’s first treatment. After having gone through a similar (though much accelerated and direr) situation with his dad, Henry had expected the worst for Alex for this process, but Alex was handling it very well. Henry continued to have Skype call with his therapist for at least one hour during their hospital visits and Alex continued to take treatment like a champ. The only real change was that Alex slept a lot more, which Henry wasn’t upset about. Most of the time, when Henry came back into the room after his Skype call, Alex would be asleep with a book on his lap. It made Henry happy to know that, despite everything else, at least Alex was getting the rest he needed. He had a few rough nights, of course––nights where he spent hours hunched over the toilet until he fell asleep. On those nights, Henry would bring him water, rub his back, and carry him back to bed when he fell asleep over the toilet. The next morning, Alex would wake up with a smile on his face and ready to face the new day.

Communication was getting easier, too. Well, Alex had always been pretty good at voicing his needs and emotions, but Henry was starting to figure out how to voice his own. It had taken a lot of work with his therapist for him to start feeling comfortable to talk to Alex about how he was really feeling, especially in more difficult moments. Most of the time, Henry requested cuddles on either the sofa or the bed. It was enough for him to have Alex in his arms, safe and alive and okay. Oftentimes, Alex dozed off when they cuddled, but Henry never minded. He would just run his hands through Alex’s hair or hold him tighter like hugs could take everything else away.

Nearly three weeks after his first treatment, Alex was upstairs taking a shower while Henry read to himself on the couch. He was trying to find a new book to bring to Alex’s next treatment so they could have something to do while Alex just sat there. David was more than happy to help Henry on this quest and sat in his lap while he quickly scanned a few books to see if they were interesting enough to read aloud. He was skimming The Joy Luck Club when Alex called for him.

“Hen, can you come up here?”

Henry instantly set the book down and got to his feet. “Of course. Coming!” David followed him up the stairs. Since he thought that Alex might’ve been calling for him to bring a towel or something, Henry stopped at the linen closet and grabbed the fluffiest towel he could find before heading to the bathroom. The door was open so he let himself in.

Alex, it seemed, had not actually been taking a shower. His shirt was off like he had been getting ready for one, but he was actually hunched over the sink with an electric razor pointed at his head. Henry gasped, unable to help himself. Upon hearing him, Alex turned and shot him a sly smile. When Alex turned to face him, Henry saw that Alex had already gotten a pretty decent amount of hair off. His forehead to his ears was completely bald. Henry looked at the sink and floor and found it covered in little chunks of what used to be Alex’s gorgeous curls. Alex held out the hand with the razor, obviously silently asking Henry to help him with the rest of it.

Henry set the towel down, took the razor, and stood behind Alex who was gripping the edge of the sink so hard that his knuckles were turning white. Henry planted a kiss on the already bald spot before he got to work on the rest of it. With each chunk of hair that fell, he looked in the mirror and saw Alex bite his lip a bit harder and look up and away from their reflection. Despite Alex’s best efforts, Henry could see the tears forming in the bottom of his eyes.

“Love…” Henry said, trying to get his attention.

Alex didn’t give an inch. He gripped the counter harder and closed his eyes. “Please,” he begged, his voice uneven, “finish it.”

Henry sighed, pressed another kiss to his head, and finished buzzing all of the hair off. When he was done and Alex was decisively very bald, Henry put the razor down on the counter and pressed himself against Alex’s back, sliding his arms around his waist from behind. He put his head on top of Alex’s and looked at their reflection. It was a bit disheartening at first, but it was something they both knew was bound to happen, though Henry hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. He thought it would have been a more gradual thing––that Alex’s hair would have thinned and fallen out in pieces instead of Alex deciding to just shave it off all at once.

“How do you feel?” Henry asked. He knew Alex usually hated that question, but Alex was usually fine. Well, fine by Alex standards. Holding it together, at least. Not blinking back tears with hair surrounding him in their bathroom on a Thursday evening.

“Fucking bald,” Alex said through gritted teeth.

Henry turned Alex around in one swift motion, desperate to understand what was going in that funny head of his. “Why did you want to shave it off?”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because Alex sort of glared at him for a moment before losing it. He freed himself from Henry’s grasp by shoving him off (lightly, because even like this Alex would never hurt him) and pressed himself against the back of the counter, trying to create as much distance as possible.

“I didn’t want to!” he cried, letting his tears fall freely. “I just wanted to take a shower and when I took my shirt off, all of this––” he grabbed a fistful of his hair from the counter and waved it in the air––“fucking hair just came off with it. And we haven’t told the press or anything so I can’t just have hair falling out when I’m, like, walking around or anything because they’ll notice that. So I had to––I needed––fuck!” He sobbed and threw the hair down onto the floor before dropping to the ground himself and scooping the hair into his arms. “This is me, H,” he said, holding the hair up to Henry. “This is my fucking hair. A part of me. And it’s fucking gone. What was I thinking? I should have refused the chemo. Even with the beanies, everyone will still know that I’m fucking bald and they’re––everyone will know.”

Henry was too shocked to move. To think. All his brain could process was that Alex was sobbing hysterically on the floor of their bathroom holding his hair like it was his most prized possession. Henry realized that he was crying, too, but he couldn’t really do anything about it. He couldn’t even move.

Alex, much to his surprise, was still spewing hysterical comments between sobs. “I don’t want this. Any of it. You––you loved my hair. I loved my hair. And now…”

Henry fell to his knees and reached out for Alex. Alex looked at him through teary eyes and, with his hair still in his fists, barred into Henry’s chest, letting his arms wrap Henry in a monstrous hug that swallowed him whole. Henry planted countless kisses onto Alex’s head while Alex cried into his shirt. He wanted to say that it would be okay and that, eventually, everything would be fine. But he couldn’t bring himself to lie––not to Alex. It probably would be okay, but how was anyone to know? The only thing he could hold onto was the belief that Alex was strong enough to get through anything with enough focus and determination, but the fight was leaving him. Henry knew that he was beyond exhausted of going through the treatments by now, and they were only halfway done with this cycle. If the treatments kept draining him like this, Alex was sure to be reduced to a shell of who he once was. It broke Henry’s heart to see it.

“The press doesn’t matter,” Henry told him as Alex’s sobs subsided into silent tears.

“It does,” he argued to Henry’s chest. “I had plans. Goals. I was working so hard to achieve them.”

“This doesn’t take away from any of your goals, love. It just…it sets them back a bit, yes, but we both know that you’re more than willing and able to do to the work to catch up. If you take classes over the summer––“

Alex pulled himself off of Henry a bit so he could look him in the eye. “I meant Congress. Senate. Maybe the presidency, someday. Not just law school.”

Henry furrowed his brow at him. He reached out to run his fingers through Alex’s curls, but they weren’t there anymore. He rubbed his head instead. “You’ve got time to achieve all of that. We’ll figure it out.”

Alex shook his head. “No. I mean, yeah, I know, but that’s not what I mean. I mean that the press will find out. Everyone will know me as Alex Claremont-Diaz: the FSOTUS with cancer. Everything I do, anything I achieve…it’ll all be tainted. I don’t want to get elected or not get elected because of this. I don’t want to be a charity case.”

It all made more sense now. Henry realized that the hair was some sort of symbol to Alex––something that marked him as “damaged” or “broken.” And, well, Henry would be damned if he let Alex believe that he was nothing less than the entire fucking world.

“It doesn’t define you,” Henry told him. “You are still beautiful and strong-willed, no matter what happens.”

“I don’t feel strong,” Alex whispered. “I feel bald and pathetic.”

Henry shook his head. It was a complicated sort of thing––the things they felt about each other. Alex told him that he would go to war for Henry. That he would fight anyone that had ever hurt him. Henry would go to war for him, too––would hurt anyone that made Alex feel heard or unimportant. The problem was that, for Alex, there wasn’t a singular person out there that made him feel more defeated than his own, chaotic self. It was delicate. Henry had to find the balance between slaying the evil thoughts in Alex’s mind without slaying Alex himself.

“You may be bald for now, but you are certainly not pathetic. And this doesn’t mean that you are any sicker than you were before––this means that the medicine is doing its job. I know it doesn’t feel like much of a win, but it is. This is proof of your bravery. Of how you’re a fighter. Please, love,” Henry begged, taking Alex’s jaw in his hands, “keep fighting. I know it’s scary, but I believe in you. Everyone else does, too. And I––I need you. Don’t let this stop you from being exactly who you are or from continuing to fight this war.”

Alex laughed wetly, but the tears in his eyes didn’t seem like sad ones anymore. He pulled Henry in and planted a slow, deep kiss on his lips.

“I won’t give up,” he promised. “I’m sorry for having a breakdown about it.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I just need you to promise me.”

Alex nodded and kissed him again. He brought their foreheads together when he pulled away, keeping Henry only a breath away. “I promise, baby. You’re gonna be stuck with me forever.”


	14. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops.

It was a cold day when it happened. Both he and Henry were unsuspecting––clueless of what the day might bring. To them, this day seemed like any other. A bit better than the previous ones, maybe, since Alex had just finished his first cycle of chemo. He had one more to go to complete the treatment and, at that time, the doctors would prod him with needles and hook him up to machines to see if the cancer was gone or if more treatment would be needed. He wanted to go back in time and stop them at the surgery because everything that followed that was complete bullshit. He felt worse than he ever had with the tumor in his brain––constantly tired despite having spent a majority of his time asleep, nauseous, irritable, and unfocused. The constant headache seemed like a better bet than what came with the chemotherapy, in all honesty. And, if it wouldn’t have broken Henry’s heart, he might have not done it at all. And now, with the signs of his illness far too obvious, it was only a matter of time before everyone found out and his life changed all over again.

The media was still having a fucking party with his whole beanie-wearing and not-going-to-class thing. It killed him to read articles about his own life that were so off-base. If it was a stupid gossip thing about weird shit he had done, like that time someone said he got his asshole bleached, it was funny. If it was mad speculations about him and Henry breaking up or other crazy things that were honestly worse than the truth, it just made him mad. Though, to be fair, he was always mad these days. The anger boiled up inside him when he found out there was just another thing he couldn’t do. Just the other night, when the walls felt like they were closing in, he had this overwhelming urge to grab the mostly full bottle of Maker’s from downstairs and get wasted off his ass, but HRH Prince Henry of Super Hearing had woken up and pried the bottle out of his hands. Alex had cried after that. Yelled. Not at Henry of course, never at him, but at the whole fucking world for putting him such a shitty position.

He needed a fucking break.

To celebrate this small victory––Henry’s words, not Alex’s––they went out for ice cream. Alex would have liked to get shit-faced, but he couldn’t, so Henry offered ice cream. And, well, it didn’t seem like a terrible idea. Yeah, it was fucking freezing outside, but ice cream was one of the foods that the cancer hadn’t touched. Most things tasted burnt or flavorless in his mouth, but not ice cream. He figured it was the universe’s shitty way of compensating for everything it was doing to him, but he wasn’t mad about it. Ice cream was a good food to hold onto. It could have been broccoli, he supposed, which would have been a new kind of hell.

They got their ice cream with David. Cash lurked behind them because, after the whole seizure thing, Henry refused to go anywhere without a PPO. Alex wanted to be mad at him for that, but he couldn’t really find a reason to pick a fight. He was more mad at himself for having a fucking seizure, scaring his boyfriend, and starting this whole shit show.

They were on their way back to the brownstone when it happened. Alex had just finished his ice cream cone and they were turning a corner, completely unaware of what would happen when they did. As soon as they rounded the corner, Henry––who had been telling Alex the story of how Pez had gotten himself covered in pink paint and feathers one night at uni––was interrupted by a swarm of paparazzi. The flash from their cameras was blinding and their voices were so loud and thick that Alex thought he might have been drowning in their questions. They were shouting over each other and asking about the beanies, his family, classes, and Henry.

“Are you and Henry breaking up? We’ve heard speculations that he doesn’t support your career and made you drop out of law school!”

If they hadn’t brought up Henry, who was literally standing next to him and holding his fucking hand, Alex would have just ignored them. But the mention of Henry in such a way made that anger bubble up inside of him like a volcano. His head thrummed and his fist clenched around itself as he gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing into a terrifying glare that made that reporter, who looked like a fucking troll, recoil a bit like Alex might throw a punch at him. Instead, Alex grabbed his microphone, making Henry shuffle forward a bit with the motion. He took it out of the guy’s hands and held it up to his mouth, his vision going a bit red and hazy at the edges.

“I’ll say this one time and one time only,” Alex seethed, his vision narrowing on this fucking fake hipster with his stupid glasses and slimy, unkempt hair. To his left, Henry was shouting for Cash, but both he and Cash were a million miles away now. Alex was somewhere else, on some other plane of existence. “Henry always has been and will forever be a miracle. He is far more than I deserve in a partner. So, no. We’re not breaking up. And he didn’t make me drop out of law school, but if he asked me to, I would do it without a second fucking thought.”

Henry squeezed his hand, obviously trying to get him to just walk away from all of this, but Alex needed to unleash. He had been holding on and spiraling for so long now that he couldn’t even try to contain himself anymore.

“Oh, and you want to know about my beanies?” Alex handed Henry the microphone so he could reach up, grab a fistful of beanie, and yank it off his head.

The crowd was stunned into silence. After a moment, they started talking over each other again and sapped pictures of his bald head with the incision marks clearly visible. Henry looked pale and terrified by his side, but Alex couldn’t see past his own fucking anger. He grabbed the microphone again.

“My name is Alexander Claremont-Diaz,” he told them. “And I have fucking cancer.”

With that, he dropped the microphone onto the sidewalk and walked away from them with Henry, David, and Cash close behind him, all too stunned to speak.


	15. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, you thought you got rid of me, didn't you?
> 
> Too bad! I'm still here!
> 
> Apologies for the lack of updates. I am currently very invested in doing the audiobook versions of stuff for y'all. The link is below!
> 
> https://anchor.fm/bibliosoph

As soon as they were back in their house and away from the public, Henry grabbed Alex’s wrist and stared into his eyes, desperate for some kind of answer to that stunt. Cash had been obviously served and upset about it right after, and when he left them a few feet away from the brownstone to take a call, Henry knew that it wasn’t good. The White House team was sure to be furious with Alex for coming out with the truth this way. They were planning on doing an official press conference after they got results back but Alex had just derailed that with his impromptu speech.

“What were you thinking, Alex?” Henry asked, unable to hide the tremble in his voice. He released David’s leash and let the dog scamper away.

Alex stared at him for a moment like he had no idea what he was on about. “What? At least they know now.”

Henry sighed and released Alex’s wrist, trading it to run his fingers through his hair to try and calm himself. This was bad. Like, world-closing-in, mayday, emergency meetings bad. Not only had Alex just told the world about his illness in an unconventional way not cleared by the press team, but he had shown his anger at a crowd of paparazzi. There were going to be repercussions for his actions––things that Henry couldn’t protect him from. He looked unhinged and unstable. His approval rating was sure to go down a few points for the outburst. His career was on the line. 

“At least they––Alex, what were you thinking?”

Alex shrugged and pushed past him, plopping down on the sofa. Henry walked over and stood over him, not daring to get too close. If he got too close, Alex would put him under his spell and make it seem like there was nothing wrong––like he hadn’t just completely exploded their lives in an instant. And, well, fuck. This was supposed to be a good day.

“It’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think that’s correct,” Henry explained. “Your White House press team is probably going into full on panic mode about this. Your approval rating is sure to drop. Your mother––“

“Henry, stop,” Alex begged, looking up at him.

Henry folded his arms across his chest. “You need to understand––“

“I do understand!” Alex protested, his voice loud. Louder and more alive than it had been in weeks. “I fucking know, okay? I just––“ he took a deep breath. “I snapped. I didn’t––I don’t––Hen, I don’t want this. I wish I had never accepted the chemo––“

“Don’t you dare,” Henry growled, his fists clenching unconsciously by his sides. “Alex, don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence.”

Alex groaned and tried to run his fingers through his hair, but his hair wasn’t there anymore. He was still getting used to not having it. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean––“

Henry raised a hand to silence him. “I know. I know you didn’t mean…but I can’t help but think that that’s exactly what you’re doing. I see it, you know: you giving up. Today was a confirmation of my worst fears.”

Alex groaned, clearly frustrated with himself. It had been happening a lot lately––this strange back and fourth. He had an anger buried deep inside, an anger that Henry could practically feel, but after he let it out he felt horrible about the whole ordeal. It was like he was outside of himself. Like he was getting angry for other people. It broke Henry’s heart to see it. Everything these days tended to break Henry’s heart. There had been more sleepless nights, more nights of Alex passing out with his head resting against the toilet. The Alex he knew and loved was only a visitor––it was like someone else had taken over his body. The loss of hair was fine. Hi throwing up into the early morning was manageable. But Henry couldn’t figure out where Old Alex ended and the Sick Alex began. It was a private, cold sort of war for Alex––one raged and fought inside his head. Henry could see the struggle between the two of them. He could see his Alex fight against this new one, trying so desperately to get rid of him for good.

“I can’t help it,” Alex whispered.

Henry nodded. “I know. I just––I need you to try. Fight it, Alex. Fight it like you’ve fought everything else.”

Alex looked up at him, blinking back tears. “I’m trying,” he said. “I’m trying so fucking hard to stay strong and make this okay, but…it’s not okay, is it? I’m not okay.”

Henry fell to his knees and cupped Alex’s jaw in his hands, tracing over the stubble that would have been there if Alex were capable of growing hair at the moment. “I know. And you’re right: you’re not okay. You don’t have to be okay.”

Alex nuzzled his face into Henry’s touch, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of it. “I’m sorry for losing my shit.”

Henry couldn’t say that it was fine because he had no idea if that was true. In fact, he knew that Alex’s tantrum was about to stir things up. The press team would probably call them. Ellen would be scared and furious. Maybe Alex’s family would get mad at Henry for not doing a better job of taking care of Alex. Maybe they would all storm the brownstone, eager to take Alex back to D.C. for the rest of his treatments. Henry felt useless. Pathetic. Totally out of his element. He had no idea what to say or do in this situation. There were no words big enough to help Alex get through this.

Instead, he placed a delicate kiss on Alex’s lips. Alex’s hands moved around Henry’s neck and Henry could feel them tremble and quake.

He pulled away. “What’s wrong?”

“I fucked everything up,” he whispered. “As soon as they talked about you like that, I––“

“Hang on,” Henry said, trying to piece this together. “You got upset because of their accusations about me?”

Alex nodded. “I can’t do much for you these days,” he admitted, looking sad and embarrassed about that, “but I can defend you.”

Henry wanted to cry at the admission. This whole time, he thought that Alex was acting out of pure anger at his situation, but Alex was angry because he felt useless. Because he felt like he wasn’t enough anymore. There was the one thing Henry was sure of: Alex would always be enough. Often times, Alex was too much. It was one of the many, many things that Henry loved about him. There was no half-assing with Alex. He did things completely and holistically.

“You’re the same person,” Henry told him. “You’re still Alex. And you still do so much for me––you love me. That’s enough. It’s always been enough.”

Alex smiled and kissed him again. “I think I can show you how much I love you,” Alex grinned, setting his hand against Henry’s thigh.

Henry looked up at him with a smirk. “Really?”

They hadn’t done much of anything of that nature since this all started. Alex was usually too tired to leave the house, let alone to exert that much energy.

Alex nodded at him. If Henry closed his eyes, he could picture Alex’s curls bouncing with the movement.

“Come on, Your Highness,” Alex said, standing up and offering a hand to Henry.

Henry took it. “If you feel––“

“I can do this,” Alex assured him. “I want to do this. I need to do this. It’ll be fine. I’m still made of adrenaline, baby.”

“And bad ideas,” Henry added.

“Well, naturally. Sorry they kept that part of my brain in.”

And, just like that, things felt normal again. All nervousness and tension in Henry dissipated as he laughed at his stupid boyfriend and his inappropriate jokes. He followed Alex upstairs, eager to show him just how much he loved him, too.


	16. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEHE  
> CUTE  
> BEWARE  
> AH
> 
> Also, here's the link to my playlist for the RWRB Big Bang!
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/014boexgiz9bpfv7l95ide2sf/playlist/59n3XKYvYGSCyfCBFc3Avx

Yeah, so, there was quite a bit of fallout from that incident. Alex supposed he should have expected it, but when no one called him to yell at him for a solid hour and a half, he thought he might have been in the clear. To celebrate seemingly being off the hook (and the fact that he and Henry had sex), he and Henry were cuddling in bed. It had been clumsy and Alex felt really tired during and especially after, but it was totally worth it. To his side––and sort of below him since Alex had his head on Henry’s chest––Henry was red, sated, and blissed out. He had that unfiltered smile on his face and his eyes closed like he was too overwhelmed to let all of his senses take things in. Alex loved that face so much. He wanted to keep it forever in his mind, but a picture didn’t seem like enough. He wanted the smell of him, too. And the sound of his soft breathing. All of it.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Groaning, Alex rolled over and picked it up. He saw, much to his horror, that it was his mother calling. He frantically showed it to Henry who just gestured for him to take the call like the responsible boyfriend he was.

“Diaz, you little shit,” said the voice of the President on Alex’s phone.

He winced at her tone. “Oh, hey, mom,” he said, trying to sound light and innocent.

Henry raised an eyebrow at him with an infuriating smirk on his face.

“Don’t ‘hey, mom’ me,” she demanded. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Alex bit his lip nervously. “Uh, gave a speech?”

Henry poked him and rolled his eyes, agitated on behalf of the president.

“I spent a good fifteen minutes wondering whether I was allowed to call you and yell at you,” she explained. “I thought being mad at you might make be a bad mother, but fuck it. You are an idiot. I love you, but Jesus Christ, Alex. Are you kidding me with this?”

Alex sighed and found Henry’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Henry squeezed his back and maneuvered himself to be on top of Alex. Alex had to fight back a fit of laughter as Henry started brushing his nose against his bare chest like a fucking cat or something.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, not really knowing what else to say. “I’m the worst, I know.”

“You’re not the worst,” his mom argued. “I just––it wasn’t the best way to handle things.”

“I know. Is there––should I be doing something? Apologizing?”

His mom didn’t respond for a second. “I’ve already told you that it was a stupid idea, which it was, but it also…I think it’ll work for you.”

Alex was surprised to hear that. He thought he had fucked everything up to the point of no return. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, again, it should have been handled differently, but the press is going to back off now. It’s bad form to ambush a kid with cancer.”

Alex thought that those words should have made him feel better or something, but they just made him sick to his stomach. He wasn’t sure why that made his stomach churn and his mouth go dry, but they did. He looked down at Henry, who wasn’t hearing Ellen’s side of the conversation, and planted a kiss on his forehead. Henry grinned back him, obviously confused but not unpleased.

“Right. Uh, that’s good then. I mean, how long will it hold them off, though? I might have to do another round after this next one if––” Henry froze under him, his arms subconsciously tightening around Alex’s chest. Best not to finish that sentence, then.

“I don’t know, sugar. I’ll keep you updated on anything you can do if things get worse. You just worry on recovery and the next round of treatment, okay? How many treatments this time?”

“Not as many. I think they’re pretty sure it should be about gone, so this is more of, like, a precautionary thing. And they kind of killed me with the first round, so. I think they’re getting sick of seeing me, honestly.”

Ellen managed a small laugh. “Right. Get some rest, Alex. I’ll talk to later, okay?”

“Okay, love you.”

“Love you too, sugar. Say hi to Henry for me.”

Alex hung up and set his phone back down on the bedside table, making Henry shift a bit to let him roll over again. As soon as he moved back, Henry was on top of him. Touch-starved, Alex realized. In desperate need of physical assurance.

Alex ran his fingers through Henry’s hair and Henry sighed contently.

“It’ll all be fine,” Alex told him.

“I hope so.”

“It will be,” Alex assured him, finding his hand and threading their fingers together again. Henry lifted his head and used his other hand to fiddle with the key and ring around Alex’s neck.

“I don’t want this to be the only ring I get to give you,” Henry whispered. It was so soft––so delicate––that Alex almost didn’t hear him. But he did hear him, somehow, and he felt his heart catch his in throat. Slowly, very slowly, he sat up a bit straighter, leaning against the headboard. Henry was frozen like he hadn’t meant to say those words out loud and was feeling embarrassed for the admission.

Alex swallowed. His throat was too dry from the nerves. “What?”

Henry looked up at him, his blue eyes shining in the light. “I didn’t––“

“Did you mean it?” It felt like the only important question right now. Never mind if Henry was embarrassed about it or felt like it was too soon or something––Alex desperately needed to know if he meant what he said.

Henry closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. “I––yes. Of course I meant it. I could never––I’m sorry if it’s too soon or––“

“Baby,” Alex soothed, rubbing his hand along Henry’s strong, princely jaw. “Don’t you dare fucking apologize, okay? I mean, I’ve known this was forever, at least for me, and…I just didn’t know that you wanted that. The whole marriage thing. With me.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “Of course I do,” he said, sticking his chin out. “There’s––I’ll never love someone the way I love you. As deeply and as completely as I do you. You’re it for me, Alex. My fate was sealed the day I laid eyes on you in Rio.”

Alex felt tears––happy ones––sting his eyes. He pulled Henry up a bit and kissed him soundly, deeply, for a moment before pulling back to murmur, “I stupid fucking love you,” against his soft, pink lips.

Henry kissed him back, kissed him harder, until there was no space or air between them. Alex thought about how this––kissing Henry in their house, kissing Henry with all of the time in the world, just kissing and being with Henry in general––sounded pretty amazing as something he could have, officially, for the rest of his life. He smiled against Henry's lips, realizing that he would love for Henry to put a ring on his finger, but not before Alex got to give him a ring of his own.

So, the next time Alex was getting a treatment, he flipped through the book for Henry and realized that, whether he had known it or not, it was a proposal. All of his favorite memories and pieces of Henry forever immortalized in messy script on elegant pages. He decided to make it official by starting his next few pages, spacing it out until his very last treatment. He would wait to give the book to Henry until after he got his results, and only if those results were good. He didn't want to add the stress of an engagement to the stress of more treatments. 

REASONS WHY I WANT TO SPEND FOREVER WITH HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES: A LIST

REASONS WHY I WANT TO MARRY HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES: A LIST

REASONS WHY HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES SHOULD SAY YES: A LIST

He couldn't help but beam at the page, his heart over-filled with joy.


	17. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last real chapter, folks! The next one is going to be Alex's journal and that's it!

The anxiety was mind-numbing. The call was due at any moment. Henry was pacing in front of Alex who was on the couch, following Henry’s movements with his tired, nervous eyes. This was the moment: the moment they found out whether the chemo had done its job. It had been a miserable few weeks, but it was hopefully (finally) over. Alex had his phone ready in his hands to pick up as soon as the doctor called. She was supposed to have called at three but it was already three-o-two and Henry was anxious and sure that he might throw up. He looked down at Alex who looked nervous in his own way, a little more tense than usual, but not nearly as nervous as Henry felt. It seemed like, given that this was Alex’s diagnosis and health, that it was Alex that should have been pacing and trembling. But, then again, Alex was never the kind of person to worry about himself. He did on some occasions, but not when Henry was involved. As soon as Henry was in the picture, Alex was as selfless as ever. Too selfless, sometimes. Too quick to defend him, even if it meant fallout for him.

“You need to stop pacing,” Alex said lazily from the couch, scrolling through his phone.

Henry stopped abruptly and frowned at him. “How are you not more nervous? I mean, I’m not trying to make you more nervous, but––“

“I have faith,” Alex said, hardly sparing a glance up at Henry. Henry opened his mouth, maybe to ask how Alex could still have faith or where he acquired his bravery, when Alex’s phone started vibrating.

Henry pressed his lips into a thin line and held his breath while Alex locked eyes with him for a moment before accepting the call and putting it to his ear. They had discussed this already; how the whole phone thing would go. Alex didn’t want to put it on speaker in case it was bad news, and Henry hadn’t really disagreed. It seemed like a better idea to let Alex, who was, for once, the calm and rational one, hear the doctor out before discussing things with Henry. Although it had seemed like a good idea at the time, Henry supposed he hadn’t really thought it through. Not being able to hear the doctor meant that he could just hear and see Alex with zero context. And, of course, more anxiety-provoking waiting.

“Hi, Doc, Alex said when he answered it.

Henry shot him a glare at the colloquial word, “doc,” but Alex just rolled his eyes and shrugged. Henry noticed Alex bounce his knee anxiously as the doctor said something on the other end.

Alex took a deep breath. “Okay…”

A pause.

“So what does that mean?”

A pause. Suddenly, Alex’s eyes widened and his hand flew up to his mouth. Tears formed in his eyes. He got to his feet like he needed his body stretched and upright to fully process whatever the doctor had told him. Henry wanted to hear what was happening, to know what this reaction meant. He tugged on Alex’s wrist, silently begging for some kind of answer, but Alex waved him off. Henry felt a bit deflated.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re serious?”

Henry stared at him, trying to piece it together.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.”

Henry felt his breathing quicken.

“Yeah, I’ll call your office to set it up. I, uh, thank you. I have to go.”

Henry wanted to scream. If Alex was setting up an appointment…

He abruptly hung up and tossed the phone behind him onto the couch. He stared at Henry for a moment, his brown eyes blown big and filled with tears, and let out a watery, mangled sob. He brought his hands up to dry his eyes and Henry could see them trembling. Henry was fighting back his own tears now, too. If Alex’s reaction to the news, and the assurance of another appointment, told Henry something, it was that this had not been a good phone call. He figured that Alex was probably in a bit of shock, having desperately hoped that this nightmare was over.

Instead of saying anything, mostly because Henry had no idea what to say, he engulfed Alex in a massive hug. Alex was quick to melt into it, wrapping his arms around Henry and burying his head into the crook of Henry’s neck.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what she said?”

Henry shook his head, his cheek brushing against Alex’s bald head. “I don’t need to hear you say it. Not now.”

Alex chuckled against his neck. “Oh, okay. I just thought you might be interested to know. You know, since the cancer’s gone.”

Henry’s eyes widened and he pushed Alex off of him, gripping him by the shoulders and staring at him with his mouth open. “What?”

Alex smiled at him. “Cancer free, baby.”

“But––you set up an appointment!”

“Yeah to talk about remission and stuff. I’m done with treatments.”

Henry blinked at him unable to process this. “You…you don’t have cancer anymore?”

Alex shook his head, that smile still on his face. “No more cancer.”

It hit Henry then that it, this nightmare, was over. He let out a choked sob and kissed Alex roughly, his hands cupping Alex’s jaw. “I love you,” he said when he pulled away. “Christ, I love you so much. I can’t––you––“

Alex laughed at him and quickly kissed some of his tears away. It was a stupid plan, really, because it just made Henry cry harder. “I told you I’d go to war for you,” he said. “Who knew I’d fucking win?”

“I did,” Henry said, chin out. “I knew you could do it.”

Alex kissed him this time. It was a bit longer and sweeter than the first, and just as Henry melted into it, Alex pulled away.

“I need to get something, okay?”

Henry nodded.

“Wait here.”

Henry watched as Alex practically sprinted upstairs. He smiled at the sight of it––of Alex with so much energy again. He tried to think about what Alex could possibly need to fetch at this moment––what was more important than kissing his stupidly happy, crying boyfriend? Henry had half a mind to demand, as a Prince, that Alex kiss him again, but Alex was back before Henry could even let that idea play out in his mind. In his hand he held a beautiful, leather notebook. He showed it to Henry who saw, etched on the cover in neat, golden script, “History, Huh?”

He cocked an eyebrow at it. He’d never seen this book before.

“So, uh, this was a stupid idea I had when I was first diagnosed,” Alex said, turning the book over in his hands, running his fingers across the golden edges of it. “When we decided that you would do therapy while I was getting treatment, I realized that I’d have a whole hour to myself. I think it started off as a thank you for standing by my side through this, but I reread it recently and…” he cleared his throat and moved his gaze up to meet Henry’s curious eyes. “Well, it’s a gift for you, but I want to read you one of them first.”

Henry nodded. Alex gestured for him to sit down so, still curious and a little nervous, Henry took a seat on the couch. Alex stood in front of him and opened the book to one of the last pages.

“This is kind of three entries in one because they’re short, and not really complete, but…uh…I’ll just get to it. Reasons I Want to Spend Forever With HRH Prince Henry of Wales: A List. One: Because waking up next to you for these past few months is something I want forever. Two: Because you always know how to get me out of my head. Honestly, I probably would have died from caffeine induced heart failure by now if it weren’t for you.”

Henry laughed.

“Three: Because you never give up on me. Ever. Even when I give up on myself. Four: Because I can’t imagine my life without you filling every single aspect of it. Five: Because of all of the things I’ve learned about you and about myself by being with you. And because I know that you’ll never cease to amaze or surprise me.”

Henry opened his mouth to say something, but Alex just turned the page, clearly not done.

“Reasons Why I Want to Marry HRH Prince Henry of Wales: A List.”

Henry felt his breath catch in his throat.

“One: Because our wedding will be, undoubtedly, the biggest, gayest affair that the world has ever seen. And, as you know, I live for the dramatics. Two: Because it’s something you want. Not to say that I don’t want it, but I hadn’t considered the possibility of you wanting it until you mentioned it the other day and, as you hopefully know, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Three: Because I fucking love you. Like, a ridiculous amount. Four: Because I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else. And I don’t want to. Five: Because you are, have been, and will be my forever. And I want the whole world to know it.”

He took a deep breath and crouched down. Henry thought that maybe he was feeling sick or something and needed a moment, but then he saw Alex get down on one knee. Henry thought he might throw up now. His heart was pounding in his chest––radiating in his eardrums. His breath was coming too quick and shallow. His fingers were trembling. He watched intently as Alex slipped a hand into his front jeans pocket and produced a ring––one that Henry knew was familiar somehow but he couldn’t quite place why. Not that the ring really mattered, anyway. All that mattered was that Alex was holding a gold ring in his hand and still holding the book in his other and he was down on one knee and––Henry thought his heart might explode. In all of the things he ever imagined growing up or even when he and Alex started this whole thing, marriage was never one of them. He always thought that, if he got married, it would be to a girl that his grandmother had paid off. That he wouldn’t feel anything for them. He never even dared to hope that he would get this: marriage with a man who made him ache when he was absent, whom he loved with his entire being, who loved him back with his entire being. That the person would be Alex and that they would have had such an epic love story already––at least a novel’s worth––but that marriage wouldn’t be the end of it. That this would simply be an affirmation of their love and that, after a wedding, they could carry on living together in domestic, lovely bliss.

“Reasons Why HRH Prince Henry of Wales Should Say Yes: A L––“

Henry threw himself on top of Alex, planting a giant kiss on his lips. Each time he pulled back to kiss him again after catching his breath for a moment, he whispered a breathless “yes” before diving back in. They were both crying and it was a bit of a mess, but it was them and it was perfect. It was all clumsy mouths and desperate tongues and roaming hands and Henry honestly didn’t think that he’d ever been this fucking happy before.

“It’s your dad’s,” Alex said, panting and smiling and so beautiful.

And his, Henry realized. His forever.

“What is?”

Alex held up the ring. Henry had almost completely forgotten about the ring.

“It’s your dad’s ring. I thought you might like it. If that’s weird then––“

Henry shook his head and looked at the ring, the sleek, golden band. God, he was so in love with Alex right now. Always. Forever. Permanently. “It’s perfect,” he said. Alex slipped it onto his finger. “I love you. I love you so much. Endlessly. Tremendously. Christ, I can’t believe…”

“Me neither,” Alex laughed, bringing their foreheads together. “Getting to be married to you…fuck, even having you like this…it feels like a dream. Like it’s too good to be true.”

“I love you,” Henry said, unsure of what else he could possibly say in this moment. “I love you.”


	18. Letters to HRH Prince Henry of Wales

This book, this wonderful, wonderful book from Alex, becomes Henry’s most prized possession. He always has it with him. He’s probably memorized every single word at this point. The gold-edged pages have long since lost their shine and the pages are bent from him setting it face down on occasion, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. It will be a cold day in hell before he leaves the house without this book with him. People have asked him to see it because he’s been caught reading it so often, but he refuses to let anyone else read the wonderful words on these pages. He and Alex have had their love letters stolen before, but not this time. Henry will guard these, these sacred words, with his life.

Treatment One

H,

It’s kind of hilarious that you have no idea this is happening as I write this. I’ve never been a good secret-keeper, especially when it comes to keeping secrets from you, so I hope I can finish this without you somehow finding out about it.

Anyway, since these treatments are going to terrible, long, and boring, I thought I’d write you some love letters. I know that this whole thing sucks, but I hope that these letters make up for it. I’ve thought long and hard about all of the ways I could possibly bring a smile to your face, even a small one, and this seems like my best bet. Then, if anything happens to me or something goes wrong, you can look back at these letters and know how much I love you. Which is, like, a fucking lot.

For this one, I want to talk about the first time I saw you. You’re probably thinking Rio, which is kind of right, but I’m talking about before then, actually. June has an addiction to tabloids. It started before we were even in The White House––back when we were young and stupid and weird. Those teen magazines always had these posters in the middle of them, probably for young girls to put up on their walls to gawk at the hot celebrity guys like Justin Bieber or something. There was this one, though, of a handsome prince. For some reason, I was totally drawn to it. He was only a year older than me and he had this beautiful, blue eyes and a kind smile.

When June wasn’t around, I would sneak into her room and find that magazine. I would pull it open to page thirteen and look at the picture of the prince. I’d run my fingers over his hair, wondering how it would feel in real life. Although I didn’t know it at the time, I was totally in love with this young, handsome prince. Sneaking into June’s room to trace my fingers over his hair and sharp jawline became my vice. I was obsessed with the idea of him and his sandy hair and gorgeous smile.

Years later, I think about it a lot. And, I have to tell you, the real thing is so much better. The prince has grown into himself––become even more beautiful with time. And his hair isn’t just glossy paper––I’ve run my fingers through it enough to know. It’s softer than I ever could have imagined, actually. And his eyes have this sparkle to them that you can’t see in print. And his smile in real life…God, it does something funny to my insides. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that I’m under some sort of spell. Because there’s no way that a love this consuming and deep and powerful can just, like, exist in real life, right?

Baby, I’m so happy to be able to be under your spell. I’m so glad that, of all of the people in the world, I’m the one who gets to know what it’s like to sleep in your arms, feel your hair, see your smile. Of all of the decisions I’ve made and things I’ve done in my life, you are the best one. And, honestly, I can’t imagine having to go a day without you by my side.

Yours,

Alex

P.s. “I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words / How wonderful life is while you're in the world” (Elton John, “Your Song”)

Treatment Two

H,

I’m so proud of you. I know you already know that, but I need to say it again. I am so fucking proud of you. You are so strong and brave and beautiful and I might start crying right now if I think about it too much. I know it kills you to leave me for an hour to go talk to your therapist, but I love that you do it anyway. Because I asked. Because I worry about you. God, sometimes I can’t believe that I’m lucky enough to have you in my life. You’re stubborn in your own, princely way (which means, basically, that you’re a nicer kind of stubborn than I am) so the fact that I’m the one that can make you change your mind…it’s a lot. In the best way possible.

For today’s entry, I’ve decided to talk about our first kiss. Aw, look at this little walk down memory lane. I wasn’t really planning on doing some sort of chronological list of big moments for us, but we both know that I can’t resist a list. Especially one about you. So.

It was so fucking cold outside. And I was, admittedly, pretty fucking drunk. We were friends, or fake friends, or whatever we were. You looked gorgeous that night. I mean, you always look gorgeous, but just…wow. We danced and were completely ridiculous and then I kissed June for midnight and you disappeared. I noticed your absence almost immediately, you know. I started walking around aimlessly, hoping to find you in some forgotten corner or shadowy hallway. I found you outside by the Lyndon trees, instead. You were as posh and graceful as ever. I approached you, unsure of what I was hoping to get out of it, but knowing even then that I just needed to be near you.

You talked about being an anonymous person in the world––what that might be like. Henry, baby, you could never be just another person. Even if you weren’t born into the family you have, you would still be a household name. People would know you for your words, the beautiful ways you can weave them together, or for your selfless deeds and fight for the underdogs out there. Or, maybe, they’d know you because you’d be dating the First Son of the United States. Even if you were some random person out in the world, I would still find you. I’d be drawn to you no matter what, no matter the time or circumstance. I’d seek you out and annoy you until you had to kiss me to shut me up. Then you’d never stop kissing me and I’d never stop kissing you.

We talked about dating. I thought it was completely ridiculous that you were complaining about not finding a date since you’re a prince and all (and extremely attractive. Have I mentioned that enough?) but you made me realize what you meant. When I was oblivious and stupid, you pressed your lips to mine. And there, under the tree, I kissed you back. Even then, before I really knew what you were to me, I kissed you back.

Because how could I not?

Yours,

A

P.S. “While I’m away / Whisper a little prayer for me. / And let’s tell the stars above / This is dedicated to the one I love” (The Mamas & The Papas, “Dedicated to the One I Love”)

Treatment Three

H,

This one is going to be short. I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m just so tired these days. My body longs for sleep like it longs for you. I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately––I feel like my mind and body are betraying me. It sucks that I can’t just wake up and be present. Even when I’m awake, I feel like I’m a million miles away. You bring me back, though. Like you always do.

The Red Room. This is different than what happened later that night. For me, anyway.

God, I was so pissed that you’d been avoiding me. The second you came in that day, I knew exactly what I had to do. So I got Amy to help me out and I got you into the room and kissed you like I had been thinking about for such a long time. You filled up my mind completely in the space between those first two kisses. I could hardly even function.

If you close your eyes, can you still feel my lips against yours like they were that day? Hungry and curious and so very desperate? Can you feel my hands pulling at your tie and running through your hair––greedy to feel every inch of your body pressed against mine?

I’m trying so hard to do this, but I don’t know how long I can keep it up. Fuck, this is only my third treatment. How many more will we have to go through? I’m sorry, Hen. Really. I’m sorry that I’m fighting and seemingly losing.

Yours,

A

P.S. “God only knows what I’d be without you” (The Beach Boys, “God Only Knows”)

Treatment Four

H,

Okay, so I’ve made sure to sleep a lot before this one. I want to be awake enough to write you the kind of letter that you deserve, even if I can’t match you for prose.

Last night, I wasn’t feeling well. I was sick and throwing up and I felt like shit. And, of course, I’m bald now. Which is…well, it sucks. Anyway, so I was pretty sick last night. I know it’s normal, but it still sucks when it happens. We had been kissing at the time because I was feeling pretty good and well-rested. I know you’re with me practically all of the time these days, but I still miss you. I know that’s stupid, but here we are. I miss how I used to be with you. I was so greedy and desperate to feel you against me, to feel the way your mouth works against mine. I still feel that way––I think I always will––but there’s not much I can do about it. It’s hard for me to get from point A (wanting to kiss you senseless) to point B (kissing you senseless) without feeling exhausted and sort of disgusted with myself. I mean, instead of raking your fingers through my hair, would you just scratch my head or something? Not exactly sexy.

But I was feeling good last night. So fucking good. We were in (or on top of) our bed and I had you right where I wanted you. You were kissing me like it was the first time––like one of us might float away if you stopped. I was so into it, baby. I thought I could do it. I thought that, finally, there was something I could do for you. Then my stomach churned. I thought it was nerves or excitement. After all, it’s been so long since I’ve been able to appreciate your body in a place apart from my dreams. But then there was that feeling in my throat––the tight, acidic one––and I knew what was coming. I managed to get to the bathroom in time, thankfully. I thought you would be upset with me (which I guess was pretty stupid). Instead, you brought me a glass of water, some crackers, and a blanket. You sat on the ground and read to me while I pressed my face against the cool porcelain, looking at you until I felt it coming again.

I don’t deserve you, Henry. I know that. But it just means that I have all of the more reason to try and prove myself to you.

That night, the one in my room at that state dinner, we saw each other for the first time. It was different than the months of fake friendship and those two other kisses. We were vulnerable together in a way we hadn’t been before. You were the first person I had wanted so badly. The first person who entered my dreams and took up residence there. But the dreams were nothing compared to how it really felt to be able to see you and touch you and kiss you and love you for the first time. After that night, I knew that there was no way I could just, like, quit you. There is no quitting HRH Prince Henry of Wales. Once you have a taste, you’ll always be drawn back in for more.

I’d like to think that we saved each other that night. I’m not sure what I saved you from because I know that you constantly fight a lot of battles, but you saved me from myself. In every possible way. You continue to amaze me, enchant me, and delight me, sweetheart. Every fucking day. The man I am today is all thanks to you. I was a mound of worthless clay until you came along. You and your nimble fingers and romantic heart shaped me into the most beautiful of pottery. You are the reason I wake up every morning. The reason that I know, somewhere deep inside, that this will all work out.

You saved me, baby. I can only hope that I’ll save you, too.

Yours,

A

P.S. “I want somebody to share, share the rest of my life / Share my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details / Someone who'll stand by my side and give me support” (Depeche Mode, Somebody)

Treatment Five

H,

I know I’ve already apologized, but I need to say it again: I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out at those reporters. It was no way to do things. I hope you can forgive me for it.

Anyway, on to the better stuff. I’m feeling pretty good today, despite everything. new treatment new me, huh? Am I still funny? Probably not.

So, for your reading pleasure, I’ve picked Paris. Ah, Paris. For most, that means amazing French food, excellent wine and champagne, and all of the other touristy stuff. But for me, Paris is sacred. It’s not the pastries or the wine or the romanticism in the air: it’s a romantic night and morning with HRH Prince Henry of Wales. We kissed and had a good time and then, that morning, I woke up to you there with me. I thought it was something we shouldn’t have done––that it was crossing some sort of line––but, God, Hen. After that night and morning, I knew how hard it would be for me to stay away from sleeping in your arms again. In your arms, in the same bed…it’s where I belong. I’d stay there forever if I could.

Have I told you lately how much I love you? I try to tell you when I can, but the days and hours and moments all blur together for me these days. I’ve been trying to be here with you more, but I know that I still slip every so often. I’m not sure where I go most of the time, honestly, but I’d like to think that I’m slipping through the threads of time. When I stare blankly ahead, don’t imagine me trying to quell the nausea or focus on my breathing. Instead, think of me drifting through doors of time, back to hotels, tack rooms, or Kensington Palace. Wherever I go when I zone out, I know that I’m trying to find you. I love to think about you at different points in our history. Knowing what I know of you now, I like to revisit all of these first times and big moments and try to see them through your eyes. Mostly I sort of laugh at my own obliviousness and stupidity, but sometimes I just look at you and I’m rendered stupid.

I could have never been as strong as you were. If I’d known what I was feeling at the time, if I had identified and accepted it for what it was, I wouldn’t have been able to control myself. I would have told you how much I loved you, how much I needed you every waking moment. But I was an idiot back then. I had no idea that, from the first time I saw you, I was well on my way to falling deeply, irreversibly in love with you.

I’m still falling, baby. Every goddamn day.

Yours,

A

P.S. “It was written that I would love you / From the moment I opened my eyes / And the morning when I first saw you / Gave me life under calico skies / I will hold you for as long as you like / I’ll hold you for the rest of my life / Always looking for ways to love you / Never failing to fight at your side / While the angels of love protect us / From the innermost secrets we hide” (Paul McCartney, “Calico Skies”)

Treatment Six

H,

This is it. I can feel it. This is the last one. I know it’s stupid for me to think that I can actually feel my cancer gone, but I swear I can. I’ve prayed for it. Endlessly. Desperately. I think the saints are on our side, here. I mean, probably not on my side since I’m kind of a shit, but they’ve listened to me because they know how much it means for you. The saints will always be on your side, baby. You’re one of them. An angel of your own right.

I didn’t know which moment to pick for this one. LA seemed like a good choice, but so did the lake house. They’re both big and unbelievable and have I mentioned how lucky I am to get to love you? To have you love me back?

I decided to talk about the V&A. It’s your lake house––your most sacred place. In the book of Prince Henry, the museum gets its own chapter. I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have been able to experience it with you, stupid and in totally in love. You told me your fantasy and offered me your hand. You sealed my fate with that dance, baby. I knew I was in love with you, but that moment pressed it into a wax seal and latched itself onto my heart forever.

I want to dance with you again. When this is over. I’m going to rent you a ballroom and dance with you because I can and because I’m so fucking in love with you. We’ll let the music carry us across the floor until our feet are too tired to move another inch. I’ll prove my love to you, baby.

Apologies for this one being a bit short. I’ve got some lists that need attending to and I have to call Catherine about your ring.

Forever Yours,

A

P.S. “Where is my master the rebel prince? / Who will shut all of these windows / It’s these windows all around me / It’s these windows who are telling me / To rid my dirty mind of all of it's preciousness” (Rufus Wainwright, “Rebel Prince”)

REASONS I WANT TO SPEND FOREVER WITH HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES: A LIST

1\. Because waking up next to you for these past few months is something I want forever. 2. Because you always know how to get me out of my head. Honestly, I probably would have died from caffeine induced heart failure by now if it weren’t for you

3\. Because you never give up on me. Ever. Even when I give up on myself.

4\. Because I can’t imagine my life without you filling every single aspect of it.

5\. Because of all of the things I’ve learned about you and about myself by being with you. And because I know that you’ll never cease to amaze or surprise me.

REASONS WHY I WANT TO MARRY HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES: A LIST

1\. Because our wedding will be, undoubtedly, the biggest, gayest affair that the world has ever seen. And, as you know, I live for the dramatics.

2\. Because it’s something you want. Not to say that I don’t want it, but I hadn’t considered the possibility of you wanting it until you mentioned it the other day and, as you hopefully know, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.

3\. Because I fucking love you. Like, a ridiculous amount.

4\. Because I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else. And I don’t want to.

5\. Because you are, have been, and will be my forever. And I want the whole world to know it.

REASONS WHY HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES SHOULD SAY YES: A LIST

Okay, sue me. I don’t actually have a list. I’ve planned on reading the lists to you out loud, so I’m kind of hoping that you’ll be in a puddle of happy tears by this point. And, of course, that you’ll say yes.


End file.
